#rhys really did ramble on this one

[sudden-memory-loss]

guess who finally became a zedaph patron but is now way too nervous to actually introduce himself or go onto the server!!!!!!!

[utterlyotterlyx]

Can I request something where Azriel has to pick up Nyx from school one day and thinks his teacher is cute & is very flirty with her?

Yes! Love this idea so much!

When I Kissed The Teacher

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Feyre loves Nyx's teacher but loves playing matchmaker even more. After sending Azriel to collect Nyx from school one day after feigning a studio related emergency, she's very happy to learn that Azriel's affections are completely in the palm of your hand.

Warnings - none really, just cuteness all round

Feyre had always been worried about sending Nyx off to school, even though she believed Rhys when he told her that the schools of Velaris were the best in Prythian, she couldn't help but feel anxious that he wouldn't thrive.

Then she met you, and all of her worries faded away.

You were everything Feyre wanted in a teacher for her child, it had taken a lot of weight throwing to get him into your class, it was full to the brim of children from higher born families, only wanting the best for their offspring. Feyre wasn't even surprised.

It was clear how much you cared about your children, in nurturing them into intelligently creative creatures. Other teachers focused solely on the academics, but you had a passion for the arts, you said creativity helped children to find their passions and grow into more compassionate and joyful souls.

Nyx had run into her arms when she had come to collect him that first day, babbling on about what a wonderful time he had with you. Miss Y/L/N. Feyre had never seen such wonderment in his eyes when he told her in that broken infant language how great you were. Everyone's worries about Nyx becoming a shell had vanished.

The little thing had returned home with paintings, reciting poetry from your favourite passages; he had the desire to read, making different voices for the different characters like he had learned from you. Nyx was well and truly flourishing.

Feyre had insisted that you walk home with them one afternoon, since you only lived five minutes from the River House and it was on your route home anyway. From that walk, Feyre had learned much about you, that you were from Spring but left after being disowned by your family for wanting more from life than being married away to be used as a breeding tool. After that you had travelled the continent, making many friends along the way and opening your mind to the world before settling in Hewn City, only to be brought to Velaris on Rhys' orders because he had heard of your talents and passion and wanted it taking root in the children of his city.

The more you spoke, rambling on about art and books and theatre, did Feyre come to the realisation that a certain someone would be absolutely besotted with you. When you had hugged Nyx goodbye, ruffling his hair and telling him you'd see him in the morning, did Feyre begin to hatch her plan.

Azriel wasn't one for sunshine and rainbows, but even he had to admit that Nyx's and Feyre's gushings about you had him intrigued, even Rhys had commented on how sweet you were, seemingly very fond of how Nyx was excelling under your wing.

"Az, would you mind grabbing Nyx today? I have to head to the studio, delivery emergency," Feyre floated past him toward the door, a thin cloak fitted around her shoulders to protect her from the afternoon summer breeze that drifted along the Sidra.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," he waved Feyre from the house as she dashed down the path shouting over her shoulder what time to be at the school for.

The sun was beginning to dip in the sky but warmth still flew through Velaris, Azriel walked along the winding paths and up the hill to the school, the skittering sound of children's laughter filling his ears as he approached. Parents parted as he walked down the cobbled stone path, not wanting to graze against his wings with slight unease in their eyes. Azriel was used to it by now, the looks of disapproval, the slight fear in the people he passed.

The bell rang and birds shot to perch on the branches of the trees that surrounded the plush gardens teeming with bright flowers and wildlife. Children began to file out from the open door, grabbing their bags and running to their parents with wide smiles, excited to tell them what you had taught them that day.

Azriel spied the inside wall littered will paintings and cards, all addressed to you, as well as a wooden table filled with the gifts the children had no doubt made their parents purchase for you.

Then he saw you, and the Shadowsinger audibly gasped. There you were, dressed in a loose white blouse with stringed corset, an earthy brown skirt that fell to the floor covered in colourful handprints that reached your thighs, your hair was unbound and baby hairs whispered along the sides of your face.

You were sunshine. You were radiant.

Nyx's hand was curled in your own as you led him out of the classroom and Azriel could have sworn he'd never seen a brighter look on anyone's face as the little man searched the crowd, "Uncle, Az!"

Your gaze had also fallen on him and you drank in his smile as Nyx left your grip and hurtled to the Shadowsinger, his grin was large, showing off all of his teeth as he bent down and wrapped Nyx in his toned arms, laughing loudly and asking about his day before standing up.

"I don't think we've ever formally met," you held your free hand out, your other carrying Nyx's bag, "I'm Y/N, well, Miss Y/L/N."

You were as soft as summer rain, adoration in your orbs, and you radiated purity and grace. Azriel glanced at your outstretched hand, sliding his own into it and feeling a force of gravity will him closer to you, "So you're the one that has Nyx ready for school at the crack of dawn," he felt relief when you didn't recoil at his hand in yours, the hands that usually made people grimace, "Azriel," you giggled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your pointed ear.

High Fae.

"Guilty as charged," your voice was like butter, smooth and rich, the perfect balance of femineity.

"Can't say I blame him," he smirked at the heat that rose to his cheeks, at the sheepish smile that tugged at your lips.

"That's very nice of you to say," one of your students walked past you, waving goodbye, and Azriel watched you bend down and fix her jacket to her body, telling her to have a lovely weekend in the sun, "Nyx has had a lovely day today. He just keeps on flourishing, it's remarkable," you had told him once you had risen again.

"I'm sure anyone could flourish with you around. Must be the Y/N effect," he cocked his head to the side at your giggle, just happy to be able to examine the woman who had Nyx all excited every morning. Feyre and Rhys were right, you were remarkable. Like a rainbow rippling in a storm.

"Must be it," the birds jumped from branch to branch around you, like they wanted to keep an eye on you for as long as possible, flitting to the bird houses you had erected by the pond of ducks and in the trees.

"Would you like to walk home with us? Feyre mentioned that you didn't live too far from the house?"

Your mouth fell into the perfect o shape, "Oh, I wouldn't want to impose-"

"You're not," Azriel smiled, looking down at Nyx, shaking his little hand and asking, "Is she, Nyx? Would you like Miss Y/L/N to walk home with us?"

"Yes!" Nyx shouted and you laughed, a laugh that made the edges of your eyes crinkle, you disappeared into the building, returning a few moments later with you satchel, locking the door and taking Nyx's free hand in your own after handing his bag to Azriel.

Azriel was positive that he'd never seen Nyx shine so brightly.

The walk home was full of light chatter, you made Azriel laugh more times than you could count, and Nyx was pointing out random things along the way, looking up at you for approval and tapping his feet on the ground when you nodded and smiled.

From the house, Feyre watched through the curtains as Nyx ran up the path, and kept watching as Azriel lingered behind, she wished she could hear what he was saying to you. But as you smiled, and blushed, and then nodded at the Shadowsinger who was kicking his feet like a schoolboy, she knew it was going well.

Strong arms wrapped around her midsection and her back hit a hard chest, his deep chuckle vibrated through him and his warm breath fanned against her ear, "Playing matchmaker again, darling?"

Feyre hummed with a gentle smile, accepting the peppering kisses over her shoulder as she watched you walk away, looking back at Azriel and waving before turning the corner, "I think this is my best one yet," she told Rhys, noticing the pursed smile on Azriel's lips and the faint pink tinge to his complexion as he followed Nyx up the path.

"I'm inclined to agree."

SO CUTE!

Thank you for the request! x

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Hello :) I've recently found your blog and read everything AT LEAST thrice. I adore your writing <3 May I request a one-short, Azriel and Reader being Wayyy too into PDA, like pausing training to cuddle standing up while everyone else is training in front of them, and Azriel is kissing up her neck n all.

Reader sitting in his lap during dinner with the inner circle while they feed each other, giggling, whispering sweet nothings, stealing kisses with each other in front of everyone and Azriel has a wing around her to keep her warm.

Like they just have to be touching each other all the time.

Also, Cass is fake-gagging at them while he is training others. And Rhys is traumatized cause they didn't put their mental shield up, and he can hear all the *dirty* thoughts they are having for each other. Those thoughts are loud as hell and he is basically like, "Really? In front of my dinner?" While side-eyeing them through dinner. That was a long one heh. Fingers crossed I sparked an idea for you and it wasn't just me rambling

Honeymoon phase.

Azriel x f!Reader.

Warnings; suggestive

Masterlist

Thank you so much! I hope this is what you had in mind! Please let me know if you want me to rewrite it.

“Lift your elbow” Azriel ordered and ducked when you threw a punch.

You were on the roof of the house of wind training with your mate while Cassian was training the Valkyries on the other side.

“That’s it! Very well” he praised you.

You smiled proudly and he engulfed you in his arms. You pressed your cheek on his chest and rubbed his back as he held you. Your mate sighed and leaned down and started kissing your neck making you leave a small moan.

“Oh come on we are training” Cassian exclaimed and made a gagging noise.

“Sorry Cassie” you shouted and pushed your mate away but quickly grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him for a last sloppy kiss.

You and Azriel met 70 years ago so the mating bond wasn’t new, but you never left the honeymoon phase. You couldn’t stay away from each other, if you could become one you probably would.

You finished training and left hand in hand making Cassian snort. After bathing together, you enjoyed your lunch and went to the river house, Azriel had to brief Rhysand on some mission, and you wanted to hang out with Feyre and Mor.

“Have fun” he told you and captured your lips with his own before climbing up the stairs that led to Rhysand’s office.

“I can’t get used to this side of him” Mor spoke from behind you.

“He is the sweetest” you smiled and took a seat on the big couch.

“He is desperately in love” Feyre said and giggled.

“Girl, trust me when I say that this man looked like he was going to murder everyone all the time. I don’t think that I ever saw him smile before he met y/n.” Mor exclaimed.

You tried to hide your grin but failed miserably making Feyre and Mor burst into laughter.

“And let’s not get started on the PDA” Mor shook her head.

“Enough! Let’s talk about something else.” You whined and the girls began teasing you even more.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Feyre was talking about her new painting when a pair of hands covered your eyes, the spicy yet sweet scent of your mate clouded your senses and you shuddered.

“Hey love” you giggled, and he removed his hands.

“Hey” he grinned and leaned down to kiss you.

“Who are you and what did you do to Azriel?” Mor shouted and Azriel gave her a vulgar gesture.

“See? He wouldn’t even acknowledge me before” she threw her hands in the air.

You shook your head and got up. “See you at dinner”.

Your mate placed his hand on your waist and guided you outside.

You spent the rest of the day cuddling in bed enjoying each other’s company. Days like this were rare, most of the time Azriel was away because of his missions and you helped Madja at her infirmary, so when you had free time you made sure to spend every second together.

“We have to get ready for dinner” you whispered and tried to push him off you.

“We still have a few minutes” he mumbled and kissed your naked chest before going further down.

“We will be late” you hummed.

“Let me just have a taste” he whined.

“I will let you do anything you want when we come back” you cupped his jaw and pulled him up giving him a soft kiss.

“Anything?” he quirked a brow.

“Anything” you nodded, and he jumped out of bed.

“Let’s go” he said and opened the closet to find an outfit for dinner making you laugh and shake your head.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You walked in the dining room and Cassian’s eyes flashed with mischief.

“What?” you asked, and he sat on your usual seat next to Azriel’s ,leaving his own on the other side of the table free.

Azriel rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand, leading you to his seat and pulling you on his lap and draping a protective wing around you.

“Oh no” Cassian mumbled and got up. Azriel’s shadows grabbed the empty chair and removed it from the room.

“I guess you have to sit next to us” your mate smiled at the warlord who paled.

Everyone looked at Cassian and burst into laughter knowing that soon enough you two would start touching each other and he would have to eat with the scent of your arousal.

Azriel was lost deep in his conversation with Rhys and you feared that his food would get cold so you grabbed his fork and stabbed a piece of steak.

“Here baby” you said and brought it to his lips.

“Thank you” he smiled and gave you a quick kiss before eating.

You watched his full lips and the way his jaw flexed as he chewed and almost moaned. Azriel noticed and smirked before moving his hand to rest it on your thigh and rub small circles. You kept feeding him and kissing him between bites. Every time you stared at his face while he ate his hand moved higher making you squirm on his lap and ground on his bulge. He quickly covered the moan that escaped with a cough and Cassian almost spat his wine.

Your arousal was evident and as both of you stripped each other with your eyes Rhysand gagged.

“Are you serious? Here?” he groaned and grabbed his head.

You stared at him wide-eyed and Azriel chuckled.

“I’m so happy for your creative sex life but please stop thinking about it on my dinner table” he whined, and Feyre caressed his arm.

You stopped grinding your hips and focused on your food before Azriel leaned forward and whispered in your ear.

“So anything huh?”

Rhysand’s eyes snapped to you and Cassian tensed.

“Yes my love” you whispered back and kissed his neck making Rhys scoff.

Azriel kissed your shoulder and pushed you off him before getting up too.

“Well next time don’t get offended if we don’t join you for dinner.” He said and slapped your ass as you hurried to your room.

“If you don’t want to hear them having sex I think we should move to the river house” Cassian mumbled and everyone jumped on their feet.

[meta-squash]

Some random maybe rambling thoughts about Jack and his feelings towards his team:

I think Jack's love for, relationship with, and treatment of each individual member of his team is really interesting.

Owen and Tosh are the two team members he truly hand-picked. He followed Owen and recruited him. He literally tracked Tosh down and made a deal to get her out of a UNIT prison. He did his research finding them, making sure they were right, convincing them to join him. He did, essentially, save them and allow them a space to remake themselves.

And for the most part he treats the two of them in a sort of paternal way. Owen, especially, but both of them. He's firm when he needs to be, and gentle when he needs to be, but there's this sort of distant yet intense protectiveness of them. Like the way a parent still sees their child as a vulnerable thing that needs caring for, even after their child is a fully grown adult. His love for them is extremely protective, but he's not close with them, he doesn't confess his thoughts or feelings to them except in dire circumstances like in Dead Man Walking when he's with Owen in the jail.

So his loss of them is a loss of a father because, in a sense, he created who they were in Torchwood. He found them, worked to recruit them. He gave them a space to grow and learn and change and hone their talents, and he supported and taught and molded them. They were part of his earliest hand-picked team, too, so they were there for long enough that they saw the growing pains, and they were his, in a way that I think he was sort of convinced they'd be with him for a long time, which is why he was so desperate to bring Owen back the first time. He loved them so much he kind of forgot Torchwood has a high mortality rate, sort of in the way a parent assumes they won't bury their child.

On the other hand, both Ianto and Gwen kind of recruited themselves. Ianto harassed Jack into a job, and Gwen unintentionally brute-forced herself out of Retcon in such a spectacularly dramatic way that it got her a job. They found him, not the other way around.

Jack's relationship with them is different. He's closer to them, less paternal, more confessional, more romantic. It's interesting that he sees them both as potential (and in Ianto's case, eventual) love interests. It seems like he doesn't feel quite as responsible for them, or at least he feels responsible in a different way. He's able to open up to them about himself in a way that he doesn't do with Tosh and Owen. And he's not as put off when they question him. It's almost as if because they independently forced themselves into the job, they're more like equals, or rivals, or something. There's a different sort of potential relationship there from Owen and Tosh.

But it also means that he doesn't or can't love them in the same way. I think somehow he subconsciously thinks he can stop himself from falling in love romantically, but he doesn't seem to think about that parental type of love. So he tries to keep his distance from Gwen and Ianto a bit, knowing he'll hurt them and they'll hurt him. But he doesn't take Owen and Tosh into account. But it does mean that Ianto's loss is different one. It's a grief of a romantic type, the loss of a lover, but it's also this awful "what if" that hangs there, what if Jack had been willing to be closer, had been willing to have a proper relationship with Ianto while it lasted instead of this sort of weird undefined thing, what if Ianto had lived, etc. And Gwen, too, becomes a "what if," in a living sense, once she's married to Rhys. That frisson is always there between them, but once she and Rhys are married it becomes a sort of hypothetical between them, what if she'd chosen Jack, what if they took it past the abstraction of yearning into something real, what if what if, etc. Only it's not mourning, it's something else entirely because she's still there with him.

I just find it so interesting that the two hand-picked members Jack seems to see as his children and the two who forced their way into to Torchwood he seems to see as potential romantic interests.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: none

Part XI | Part XIII

You were sitting in your room, breathing deeply. Even after Rhys left, whatever he did with the scent of magic it stayed like that. You were overjoyed with the feeling of not wanting to puke. Your headache and pain of limbs eased, too.

The garden outside the window plunged into darkness, it was past the dinner time. But you didn't move a bit. You were sitting like this since he left, thinking about the offer he made you. Memories, your past, faces of your parents, your childhood. Did you want it back? Would it fill that empty space in your heart and soul that you felt all those years you lived alone in the forest? Thousands of questions without answer swirled in your mind.

A soft knock sounded on your door. You ignored it, wanting to be alone. Rhysand said he would give you time to think things over, so it most likely wasn't him, but it could be his mate. Or even worse, your cousin Mor. You weren't in mood to listen to her ramblings.

The door opened and closed and few tendrils of the shadows wrapped around your hands, playing with your fingers. The room filled up with refreshing scent of cedar and mist. You waited for the wave of nausea to hit you, but nothing happened. Closing eyes you breathed in deeply and for a moment you were back in the forest. Tension from your shoulders disappeared.

Porcelain rattled against the wood. Tray with plates full of food appeared on a small table next to the armchair.

"Figured you must be hungry," a deep voice said lowly. Your head followed the sound. Azriel was standing behind the armchair, giving you a soft smile. His eyes of colour of warm honey shone even in the dark room. "Can I?" He gestured to the other armchair.

You nodded. Your heart again did strange things in your chest. You saw this male just several times during your stay here, but it was always the same. Surge of energy ran through your body, pinching your skin, your heart was jumping, racing and stumbling. Yet a sense of peace filled you. As odd as it was, he made you feel at home.

This was the third time you were alone with him, because usually you saw him only at a meal time. To be honest you would like to spend with him much more time than those short moments. You felt good in his presence and he never bothered you with rambling or stories of the past. He was rather a silent type. In a certain way he reminded you of Tamlin who also wasn't too talkative and enjoyed silent and peaceful moments. Your heart clenched painfully at that memory.

When Azriel introduced himself he said he was a spy of your brother, so you imagined he was quite busy. He often disappeared for several days. Azriel was also the first one to call you by your name. That was another reason you liked him.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

You searched for the answer, considering what you actually felt. "I think I'm confused. Uncertain.."

"About what?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don't pretend you haven't heard about it. I pretty sure that Rhysand informed all of you about the things we spoke today."

His lips pressed together for a second. "You are right. He did, but I'd rather hear it from you personally. And just so you know, he made sure the whole house and garden are stripped of magic, so you can leave this room, if you want." His voice was gentle. He always spoke like that with you.

Your eyes widened. "Why would he do something like that?"

"There's nothing he wouldn't do for you. You are his baby sister and he loves you dearly." His posture and gaze was communicating similar emotions. You didn't know how, but you knew, Azriel would do just as much for you if not more.

A lump rose in your throat and tears filled your eyes. Suddenly you felt really bad for everything you told to Rhysand earlier and that you basically accused him of drugging you with who-knows-what medicines.

Azriel reached out, caressing you cheek. "Y/N, hey. You okay?" he cooed softly.

Without thinking you leaned into his touch. "I was quite harsh with him earlier.. well, the whole time.."

He chuckled. "No need to feel bad for that. He will survive. His ego is too big to be hurt by that. Also he is used to get a cold shoulder from you."

His laugh was so contagious you smiled, too. For some reason you felt special to witness it. You didn't know where the feeling came from, too. It seemed that your heart remembered more that your head.

He pushed the tray closer to you. "Try to eat something before the food gets cold. You will feel better with full tummy."

Tummy. What a ridiculous word coming from lips of a male like him. It was too sensual. It made your insides throbbing with.. could it be lust? It was hard to name it as you had never experienced anything like that except of that last evening with Tamlin.

Pushing those feelings and thoughts to the back, you eyed the plates. There was a lot of vegetables, some meat and fruits. All your favourite ones. You had to admit that he was really good at his job. He noticed even the smallest details. You blushed when your stomach growled loudly. Your eyes darted to him half expecting to find him laughing his head off, but Azriel pretended he didn't hear anything, merely smiling at you encouragingly.

You picked up a strawberry and took a bite. As the sweetness filled your mouth you closed eyes and sighed softly.

"You haven't changed," Azriel muttered amused.

You raised a brow in surprise, looking at him.

"You always loved the strawberries so much that one could feel its taste just by watching you eat them," he explained. He looked so.. gentle.

Your heart made a somersault in the chest picking up on speed, breath caught in your throat. There was another certain feeling you couldn't name, but it was close to what you felt when Tamlin smiled at you, teased you or when he played the fiddle for you. It kind of hurt, yet it was sweet. Just like the strawberry you ate.

Swallowing hard you took a fork and tried to concentrate on the food. It was quite a hard task.

Azriel silently watched you eating. Strangely you didn't mind it at all. When you finished, you pulled the knees to your chest and looked out the window. The garden was so dark you hardly recognised the shapes of trees and bushes, Sidra flowing behind the garden reflected the lights of the city on the opposite bank. And above that all, the stars twinkled, shining brighter than you'd ever seen them.

"Have you thought about Rhys' offer?" Azriel asked suddenly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"M-hm," you grunted. "That's why I'm so confused. I don't know if I want it."

"Why? What's stopping you?"

You silently watched the night sky for a moment, gathering your thoughts. "It's like.. I don't know.. I'm afraid who I would be after finding out who I was before. That I could lose myself."

"I don't think you would. If there's something you have in common with Rhys, it's strength. I've noticed it back then and I see it in you even now. There aren't many who could live through what you did."

Your cheeks burned. "But what if I change?" you mumbled barely audible.

"Believe it or not, you haven't changed that much," he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "With memories or without them, it's up to you who you will be, but no matter how you change it will still be you." And we will love you nonetheless. He didn't say that, but he didn't have to. It was in each word he spoke.

This male was strange. In a good way of course. It only took him a few minutes to make you feel better, lighter, to make a part of your worries disappear. You felt good with him. You only knew him for a short time, yet you could open up and talk to him about anything.

"I'm scared to remember. I don't know it for sure, but .. I think there are some memories that should remain forgotten.."

Azriel nodded. "If you want, Rhysand could try to revive just a small amount of memories at a time. You can stop any time, he won't push you to continue."

"Really? Do you think he would..?" You were surprised. When Rhysand told you he could bring the memories back, you imagined it would be all at once. You didn't know he could do it in small amounts.

Azriel raised a brow. "Of course he would. As I said he'd do anything for you."

That gave you something new to think about. By the time Azriel bid you a goodnight and left taking the tray with him, you had made up your mind. Afraid you could change your decision until the morning, you decided to look for Rhysand and tell him right away.

You went down the stairs and to the sitting room, but all lights were already turned off. In your hurry you didn't notice what time it was. With little hope you headed to his office. You stopped in front of the doors and listened. It was quiet inside. Thinking he had already gone to sleep, you turned around. You made only three steps into a hall when the office doors opened.

"Y/N?" Rhysand sounded tired. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

You turned to him, suddenly uncertain what to tell him. All courage you had just few moments ago, had left you. "I-.."

"Come in," he opened the doors wider.

You stepped in and looked around. You hadn't been in this room yet. Air was filled with smell of old parchment. Walls were covered with shelves full of books. There were several armchairs and sofas, so all members of his family could attend a meeting here. The room was dominated by large desk with two big windows behind it. There between the windows a painting of Feyre was hanged.

You smiled. "You love her a lot."

Rhysand stood next to you, looking at the same painting. "I do. She is my mate, my everything. I waited for her for 500 years. Some day I will tell you how we met. You'll like it," he smirked.

He gestured to the one of the armchairs in front of the desk and you sat down. He leaned against the desk, watching you with a smile, waiting.

You fidgeted nervously and cleared your throat. You couldn't stand the kind look of his violet-blue eyes, so you gazed down on your intertwined fingers.

"I-.. I talked with Azriel and.. I would like to accept your offer."

Rhysand's smile widened. "I'm happy to hear that." He watched you closely, tilting his head to the side. "But?"

You breathed out shakily. "Azriel told me you could return my memories in small amounts. I-.. I'm still not sure if I want to remember everything that happened to me.. I-"

His big hands landed on yours, squeezing them gently. "It's okay. We can stop whenever you want. I promise."

You shot up, tears stinging your eyes. Before you knew what you were doing, you hugged him. Rhysand stiffened for a heartbeat, but then his arms wrapped around you.

"Thank you," you whispered into his shoulder. He answered by running his hand up and down your back, rubbing it lovingly.

"If you want we can start tomorrow. What do you think?"

"I'd like that."

That night you slept peacefully, without nightmares.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal

[writerfae]

A gift for Callan

This is both a gift for Callan's birthday and a story in which Callan gets a gift, thus the title. Fun, isn't it? I hope you enjoy!

Callan stood on one of the ballroom's balconies, hands clasped around the railing as he looked out into the night.

From here he had the perfect view over the palace garden. Bathed in moonlight, it was truly a sight to behold.

Someone else entered the balcony. That someone closed the door, blocking out the sounds of the festivities taking place inside the palace, then they came to stand right behind Callan.

He knew who it was even before a pair of warm arms wrapped around him.

"Beautiful," Henry whispered, his voice close to Callan's ear. It made him shiver despite the warmth of spring.

"Yes, the garden at night is really something."

His fiancé- husband, his mind corrected itself - chuckled. He kissed Callan's neck. "I wasn't talking about the garden."

A bright blush erupted on Callan's face at the words.

Henry never failed to coax this sort of reaction out of him and sometimes it seemed to Callan like he did it on purpose,  taking pleasure in Callan's flustered reactions.

His suspicion was confirmed when Henry kissed him again, this time right behind his ear, a grin clearly evident on his lips against Callan's skin.

The prince couldn't help but to smile, too. "Charmer," he accused Henry fondly.

"I'm just being honest."

Callan let go of the railing in order to lean more into his husband's - Callan very much liked that word - embrace, holding on to the arms encircling his waist.

"It was getting lonely in there without you," Henry broke the silence after a while.

"I'm sorry," Callan said. "But after Rhys' speech I needed some fresh air."

Of course his best friend, in true Rhys fashion, didn't miss the opportunity of lovingly embarrassing Callan in front of everyone by sharing stories about Callan’s "insufferable and painfully obvious pining".

Callan wanted to die of embarrassment right then and there.

Henry laughed quietly. "I found it quite interesting. I didn't know that you liked me that much when we were younger."

Callan glared at him, cheeks burning, but it only made Henry laugh even more.

He buried his head in the crook of Callan's neck. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He shook his head, his hair tickling the side of Callan's neck. "I probably wasn't much better, I just didn't have anyone to ramble about you to," he admitted.

Lifting his head, he kissed his husband's cheek apologetically.

Callan, who had already forgiven him (he couldn’t be mad with Henry for long even if he tried to, especially not for such a minor thing), smiled.

"What a shame, I really would've liked to hear what you thought of me back then."

Henry hummed. "I can tell you, if you really want to know. Later."

Callan turned his face to look at him, amused. "Why not now?"

"Because," Henry leaned in to place a quick kiss on Callan's mouth, before pulling away just as quickly. "Right now there's something I want to give to you. Close your eyes."

Callan smiled and did what he was told. The arms wrapped around him disappeared and he could hear the rustling of Henry searching for whatever it was he wanted to give Callan.

The prince wondered what it could possibly be. But he didn't need to wonder long, because Henry soon leaned back in and whispered close to his ear.

"You can open them now."

He didn't need to tell Callan twice. The young man opened his eyes. What he saw made him gasp.

It was a necklace, simple, but beautifully made. The plaited brown leather band already looked a bit worn out at the edges, but the leather was still shining.

The pendant was made out of apple tree wood with runes carved along the frame that surrounded a gemstone that almost seemed to glow in the reflection of the moonlight.

The gem had the exact same color as Henry's eyes. An Amber.

Callan recognized it immediately. He turned to look at Henry in awe. "Isn't this…?"

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Henry nodded, a smile on his face. "My mother's. A wedding gift to her from my... from Milan."

He moved to gently put the necklace on Callan. It fitted perfectly, like it was meant to be around his neck and his neck alone.

"And my wedding gift to you," Henry finished, voice soft with fondness. Callan touched the pendant around his neck in awe.

"Are you... are you certain? It's all you have of her."

He knew about the meaning of this necklace, one of the last remains Henry had of his mother. It was of immeasurable value for him.

And he decided to give it to Callan.

"I am." Even though he couldn’t see him, Callan could tell that Henry was smiling.

"This necklace was always a sign of love. So what better way could there be to honor my mother’s memory than to give it to the person I love more than anything? I want you to have it.

And I know she would've wanted it too. She always wished for me to be happy. And I am, with you."

Callan turned around immediately, tears gleaming in his eyes.

He put his arms around Henry's neck, who in turn wrapped his arms around Callan's waist again, and pulled him into a kiss, one of many yet to come that night.

"Thank you," he whispered as they pulled away, still holding each other close. "I love you."

Henry laughed quietly, kissing Callan's temple. "And I love you. Now do you want to go back inside? Or should we dissappear from here altogether?"

Callan laughed, raising his eyebrow at Henry. "You mean leaving our own party?"

Henry grinned. "Why not? It's our wedding, isn't it? So we can do whatever we want."

"And what do you want to do exactly?"

Henry's grin only grew. He leaned close to whisper something into Callan's ear and that something made the blush on Callan's face flare up all over again.

Henry only laughed, before taking Callan's hand in his and dragging him along into the moonlit garden.

...

tag list: @andifthestarsweretodie @bloodlessheirbyjacques @bluehourskyeli @deadlycupid @dustylovelyrun @justafrogandherumbrella @ladywithalamp @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @my-cursed-prince @phantasticdomains @rhikasa @saltysupercomputer @sleepy-night-child @soupopoireau @theguywithnonickname @thewalkingnerd @vampywriter @vsnotresponding @writing-is-a-martial-art (if you want to be added or removed from the tag list let me know!)

[offtorivendell]

No but imagine, Elain - who we know goes to the Palace of Bone and Salt (ACOSF, chapter 17) - accidentally bought black salt. The first time.

Or maybe the House of Wind gave it to her when she was visiting and needed salt one time, it doesn't matter.

But after that, she learnt (as @wingedblooms has theorised) how to commune with a certain, princely feline whom I suspect may be hanging around the House of Wind library. So of course she keeps a small pot of it by the kettle, because nobody besides her (and Nuala and Cerridwen, but they know what it is) use the kitchen, so she can throw it in her tea as required for a little "trip."

Enter Cassian:

"Elain, what are you cooking there? It smells delicious." An exaggerated sniff followed his remark.

"Cat food," Elain replied dreamily.

"When did you get a cat?" Elain often appeared to be off in her own world, so Cassian wouldn't put it past her to get a cat and not mention it.

"Oh, I didn't," Elain replied, as she walked out into the sunny terrace garden, herb basket on her hip.

Cassian: 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

Or:

Elain had invited Nesta and Cassian over to the townhouse for dinner one night, when Feyre and Rhys were off on official court duty (ie. a family getaway to the cabin, to introduce Nyx to the wonders of snow). Cassian bullied Azriel into tagging along, and because Rhys wouldn't be there, he agreed.

Elain was making a hearty beef stew, with a side of freshly baked bread; the perfect meal for a chilly winter's eve. It had been simmering over the fire long before dusk had threatened to consume the sky, and she had finished seasoning it - even adding a little extra pepper, just for Cassian - moments before Nesta had knocked upon the roof-top door.

It smelt delicious, she couldn't wait to tuck in.

Thirty minutes later, they were sitting down to eat. Cassian shoveled some bread in his mouth as Nesta buttered her roll. Azriel had taken a polite mouthful of stew just as Elain - hungry after a long day in her potting shed and cooking - took a heaped spoon that would have made their mother faint from shock.

The stew was overly salted. Badly. How on earth?

Elain swallowed her mouthful and said, "I'm so sorry, something has happened to the stew. It appears I've put too much salt in it. Hang on and I'll heat up something from the ice box." She started to stand.

Azriel was wearing a funny expression... How mortifying. For him, of all people—her head started to spin with the shame of it.

Averting her eyes, Elain noticed that Cassian was looking incredibly guilty. Her focus narrowed over the roar threatening to consume her, and she was no longer sure it was entirely due to the people pleasing habit that had been forced upon her from childhood.

"What did you do?" Calm, stay calm.

"I, ahh, added some of that finely ground pepper you've got. I'm sorry, I couldn't resist."

"That wasn't pepper." Darkness was creeping into the edges of her vision, her fear all but confirmed, as she warned, "Do not eat the stew, I'll be back in an hour at the most." Azriel had already slumped back into his chair, eyes closed. Oh gods, how would she explain this to him?

Elain closed her eyes and let the darkness take her, opening them to Azriel, dagger at the ready, facing down a fluffy white cat, fur and whiskers abristle, blue eyes wide. If she wasn't so mortified she'd have laughed at the absurd picture they made. Oh well, no time like the present.

"Azriel," she said, standing up tall. "Meet Aidas, the Prince of the Chasm."

This post was brought to you by the ramblings of @cassianfanclub, @psychologynerd and myself. I still haven't finished HOFAS lol - I'm on chapter 75 🐢 - so I could be way off, but this is really just for laughs.

[redbleedingrose]

rhysand as a girl dad. you know u want to

OMFG TULIP LMAOOO

First off... did you even get sleep??

Second off...

YES HE ISSSSS!!! I headcanon all the ACOTAR males would be the perfect girl dads and I am still furious with SJM that Rhys does not have a daughter... yet.

But in my head he is the perfect girl dad so let's get into it!!!!!

Okay!!!! I feel like you both keep the gender a surprise because honestly, you don't really care as long as the babe is happy and healthy

But we alllll know that Rhys prays for a girl

He just adores the idea of having a mini you

And when you give birth to a girl??? This male sobs, he kisses you all over your sweaty face, muttering thanks to you and the gods and mother above for all that he has been blessed with, but especially for his little girl that he will forever spoil

He obviously coddles the hell out of his little girl, insisting that she needs to be in his arms at all times when she is not being fed or sleeping, everyone has to pry her out of his arms just to get the chance to hold her. The only person he willingly hands her over to is you.

He loves taking her out to fly, especially during the night where she is cooing in his arms and he points out different constellations and describes them to her

He spends hours talking to her. He talks to her about anything and everything, often holding her while he does his work in his office. If you can't find your babe, chances are that she is in his office and he is discussing policy. Your babe just smiles back gummily with the chubbiest cheeks and babbles at her papa, and whatever problem Rhys had is suddenly solved all thanks to his precious babe

Tea parties galore. This male will go all out for his little babe and honestly, you can't even blame him. The entire house is decorated in fairy theme, flowers and ivy all around the marbled columns. Rhys creates the illusions of tiny stars all around the house, and forces Uncle Azzie and Uncle Cassie to where pink tutu's with a princess crowns. Rhys wears a purple tutu with his night court crown.

He has a crown custom made for your babe when she is born, and adds to the collection every birthday she has with different jewelry. And he always always always buys out all the flower shops in Valeris and adds to your own jewelry collection on her birthday because he cannot thank you enough for one of the greatest blessings in his life

He loves watching the two of you interact, sometimes standing behind the door to watch the two of you talking. This little girl rambles like her life depends on it with you patiently listening and humming along, asking her questions so that she knows you are interested in whatever she has to say

Your babe used to whine about taking naps but ever since papa started to join her in for a daily nap, forcing you to join as well, she has gone down without any issue. Rhys doesn't really fall asleep, but he will watch the both of you cuddle and nap. He absolutely adores listening to the both of you breathe and pulls you both into his chest so that he can hold you close to his heart.

He calls you his heart, and your daughter his soul

He spoils the hell out of this little girl. She gets whatever the hell she wants, all the books and shoes and dresses and jewelry. His favorite activity though, is taking her to the market so they can both spoil you together: "I think mama needs this papa," small finger pointing at the largest diamond ring either of them have seen, "You have the best eyes my little darling," smirking down at her.

"Maybe we should gets mamas this whole store papa!" "We should little love"

Proceeds to buy all the jewelry in the shop and shrugging his shoulders in nonchalance when you glare at him, pointing at the bouncing babe in his arms, "It was my darling girl's idea"

his muscles when he holds her I cannot

This man also develops the largest breeding kink after she is born

Anyway...

He loves you and her the most and I am convinced he is the best girl dad and will probably add more to this as more thoughts come

Also he def paints her nails all pretty, and he also allows her to paint his nails and proudly shows them off at high lord meetings

He also gets hers and your initials physically tattooed on his chest, right above his heart

[moonlightazriel]

Drunk in love /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N had too much to drink at Rita's, but she's still loyal to her mate as ever.

Warnings: Abuse of alcohol and some swearing words.

Word Count: 845

Notes: To honor my hangover ass hahaha a little thing for you guys

Main Masterlist

My eyes felt heavy, but Cassian still handed me another drink, one that i quickly sipped on, we’re all dancing for hours now, Mor, Cass and i completely drunk. I felt a pair of hands on my waist and i turned around, the male was tall and something about him seemed familiar, i just wasn't able to tell what. Pushing him away i turned to my friends, but his hands were all over me again.

“Can you leave me alone? My mate is here, he's on our table and will not be happy with you.” My voice was loud and slowed, and i was sure that i was more rambling than actually saying something but i didn’t care, either way he should get the massage as i got closer to Cassian and away from him.

The male whoever did not seemed to be understanding as he still stood really close to us, he tried again talking to me, i kept ignoring him, why would i be interested in a random male when my handsome mate was sitting only a few feet away? Shouting to Mor that i needed to sit, i made my way to our table. Rhys and Feyre were there talking about something, when they noticed me falling on the seat in front of them, a grumpy look on my face.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” Feyre delicate voice reached my ears, and when i was about to respond the same male approached our table. Feeling furious at his audacity, i stood up to be on the same level as him, but he was way taller and really blurry.

“HIM!” I shouted, my face getting red with anger. “He’s my problem, i was dancing when he came, but it looks like he doesn't know what the word “no” means. Get out of here, i’m not interested, i have a perfect mate somewhere and my heart and mind have no space for another one.” I shouted at his face, Feyre was going to say something when Rhys stopped her, a smile dancing on his lips as he dismissed the male.

“Wow, Az is going to be proud that even now when you’re drunk as fuck, you wouldn't cheat on him.” Rhys said and i looked at him.

“How could i? He’s literally the best thing that ever happened to me, i love him too much to even think about anyone else, he’s not only my mate, he’s the love of my life, i could never do that to him.” I finished my speech and Feyre had an amused smirk on her lips, Rhysand looked like he was having the time of his life. Someone sitted on my side and my head snapped in its direction, Azriel was there, he was smiling at me. “Where were you?”

“Hi love, i was in the bathroom. Did something happened while i was away?” He pulled me closer, kissing my forehead as i leaned on his shoulder.

“Just a creep guy but i handled him.” I said and he giggled whispering “that's my girl” against my head.

I woke up feeling my head still dizzy and with a throbbing headache, growling i got up, wrapping myself in a blanket, i headed to the kitchen, when i walked by the dining room, everyone was there, Az patted on the seat on his side and i got there. Every single pair of eyes were turned to me, i knew that i probably looked really awful right now but it was Feyre that started laughing, making me look at her confused. Even Azriel was laughing, his true and genuine laugh that only the Inner Circle was ever able to hear.

“What’s so funny about me?” I asked, starting to get really annoyed at them.

“Do you remember the creep male at Rita’s yesterday?” Rhys asked, still giggling and i nodded. “I think that somehow he got home with us.” I looked at him with an eyebrow raised, what the hell he was talking about? “He’s right next you.”

“Ok i have no fucking idea of what your talking about.” I said and i could feel him asking permission to enter in my mind, allowing him, he showed me the moment where i was screaming at the mysterious male, i was standing and pointing my finger right in Azriel’s face, shouting at him while he stood there, a smile on his lips while he waited for me to finish. Rhys got out of my mind and i could feel my cheeks getting hotter as embarrassment hit me, turning to my mate i began to speak.

“Az i’m so so sorry..”

“Shh! There’s nothing to be sorry about, it was cute how you kept pushing me away because you have a mate, it makes me feel safe.” He said and i could see that he meant it, he kissed my cheek and i rested my head on his shoulder.

“I’m definitely not going to drink anymore.” I said smiling and everyone laughed again.

[mk-writes-stuff]

Character Voice Tag

Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tag! Rules: rewrite the line in the voices of your characters. My line is, “Well, what did you expect me to do?”

Belladonna: “With all due respect, what was I supposed to do?”

Cassie: “What the fuck were you expecting? Like, seriously, it’s not like you didn’t give me any options that weren’t shit.”

Nellie: “I’m not sure what you expected me to do, to be honest.”

Ricinus: “What exactly did you expect of me?”

Goldenrod: “Darling, you have to give me better options. What did you think I would do with this?”

Narcissus: “I can’t believe you would accuse me of not making the best decision. How dare you insult my intellect?”

Cassiopeia: “Honestly, girl, I’m not sure what you expected when you asked me to [redacted].” (This one is likely going to be an actual thing she says in story, hence the redaction of the spoilers.)

Stellaris: “Wait, was I not supposed to do that?” (completely genuine)

Rhys: “Is there something I can do better next time?”

Soft tagging @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @elsie-writes @illarian-rambling @magic-is-something-we-create @spitefulbull @somethingclevermahogony

Your line is: “That’s really sweet of you!”

[anthurak]

Rambling about Perma-Death in Videogame Stories

So is anyone else just completely and utterly done with the trope of ‘If you die in the game, you DIE FOR REAL!1!1’ that we see in untold numbers of stories about characters getting trapped in video games?

Like I was just watching some clips from the Jumanji reboot and now I just can’t stop thinking about the same thing I thought when I saw it back in 2017: WHY does perma-death HAVE to be a thing here?

If you haven’t seen it, the premise of the reboot is that the magic board game of doom from the original 1995 film realized that board games are getting less popular and thus upgraded itself into a videogame cartridge/console to be more appealing to would-be players. And has now sucked in four unsuspecting teens for an adventure now parodying videogame tropes instead of a board game.

Now the big ‘threat’ posed to our protagonists is that they each start with multiple ‘Lives’ which allow them to immediately respawn when they die. But they only have three lives each, which of course leads to the implicit idea that if they can’t lose ALL their lives or it’s GAME OVER, ie; they’re dead for good.

But the thing is, nothing in the movie actually DEMONSTRATES to our protagonists that this is actually the case. They just… assume that if they die three times they’re dead for really realsies.

And while watching/rewatching the movie, I just kept thinking WHY did the threat of perma-death have to be a thing? And also the fact that it didn’t even make SENSE in this context.

Like the Jumanji game is clearly sentient to a degree and seems driven first and foremost to get people to play it. So I have to ask; WHAT sense does it make for Jumanji to outright, permanently KILL its players? After all, if the players are permanently dead, they can’t exactly PLAY now can they?

Furthermore, just look at the old-style sidescroller games that Jumanji clearly based its new form on. What happens in those games when you lose all your lives? It doesn’t permanently lock you out and keep you from playing ever again. Instead you lose your progress and are sent back to the start of a level. Or in those particularly hard games, you are sent back to the very START of the game.

So don’t you think that makes WAY more sense for how Jumanji would work?

Imagine in the film when the heroes’ fifth party member Alex, the kid who got trapped in the game twenty years earlier, starts to lose his last life, the rest aren’t able to save him. He seemingly dies… and then there is this bright flash.

Then all five of the players are suddenly back in the jeep with Rhys Darby hamming out exposition at them, right back at the start of the game.

I don’t know if that would make for a better paced film, but I definitely think it would make for a more interesting story that could explore some of the real underlying aspects and nuances of how playing a videogame actually goes. Because now this is no longer a challenge of luck or split-second intuition, but of trial and error. You know, like most ACTUAL videogames!

Now that our heroes know there ISN’T actually a threat of permanent death (because this is, you know, a GAME!), they can engage in one of the most FUN parts of playing a big, open-world sandbox game: trying any number of crazy, nonsensical ideas to see if one of them actually sticks!

And I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a great way to ratchet up the dark-comedy as the characters start trying all kinds of crazy ideas that get them killed more often than not. And if you think that wouldn’t make for a very entertaining movie, let me point you to a little-known flick called Groundhog Day! Not to mention the fact that story would still have stakes. The characters still have the goal of completing the game and there’s always the threat of them losing their progress and having to start over. Plus it makes for a great method of character development and bonding as the five are forced to learn how to work together until they’re functioning as a seamless unit.

This is really my overall point about how the threat of perma-death in these kinds of stories feels like such a crutch to needlessly generate generic drama and stakes. Not to mention kind of going against the very thing that makes something a GAME in the first place.

It’s why my actual favorite ‘people getting sucked into a videogame’ story is actually the anime Log Horizon. Because in that series the respawn mechanic of the MMO the characters are sucked into still works, and the story instead revolves around its characters learning to adjust, adapt and live in this new reality. Not to mention it still finds an interesting way of maintaining stakes and consequences to characters dying even if they can respawn: Namely that because the game’s respawning mechanic involved taking away a certain among of Experience Points from a player as a ‘cost’ for reviving, this means that players now lose pieces of their memory every time they respawn.

All in all, while I understand its appeal to writers as an easy way to generating stakes and danger for characters, this whole trope of ‘die in the game you die for realsies’ feels SUPER old and super cheap at this point. And I have serious respect for any story that subverts or averts it.

[oliviajdjarin]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Limping Home

Part 3 of the Unexpected series

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: The two most powerful shadowsingers of Prythian succumb to the power of the cauldron, and come face to face with their weaknesses.

Warnings: SMUTTTT (but more like love making), heavy swearing, references to abuse, prostitution, and alcoholism, Y/N has hair in this but I tried to keep it as inclusive to texture as I could, reference to slavery, Cassian and Rhys are here again, reader has a panic attack, reader also hates herself, RHYS AND CASS RETURN, Az gets nervous and rambles, and a happy ending for once.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for your patience for this last part. This one is quite special to me, so I really hope you all enjoy. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here :)

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be much appreciated <3

Azriel Masterlist

(Art credit to @sallylouiseart on Instagram. Their art is amazing)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

For as much torture and agony you inflicted on others at the command of Beron, you didn’t expect to be the one to pay the price for it in the end.

Karma was more of a bitch than you ever expected.

It was torturous—agonizing—to hear Azriel’s movements, voice, and breaths for a seemingly endless stretch of nights after the passion the two of you shared in the brothel. You made it a point to keep your distance from him after the two of you had left the vicinity of the retched place, despite his not-so-subtle protests.

It’s funny how much you notice about a person after their tongue is down your throat.

He escorted you out of the brothel with you practically glued to his side, and he took flight with you in his arms as soon as you cleared the area.

You had never moved so fast in your life, yet felt so…secure. His grip on you was bruise-enducing, and yet you found yourself tucking your chin tighter into him.

You wrote it off as the aphrodisiac wearing itself off, but neither of you were that naive.

He flew for what felt like hours, the wind hitting your face it surely left visible burns, before he landed with a huff.

The two of you started your camp after that, and you refused to look at him as he began to prepare food over your fire.

You knew what he wanted. You told him you would explain what had happened with the male in the brothel after you, in your own words, “got the hell out of there.”

You didn’t plan on fulfilling that bargain.

Yet, he continued to sit next to you, watching the embers of red light bounce across your face. Waiting. Watching. Just like he was bred to do.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel unholy places on your body begin to heat up, sending chills throughout your skin. A hidden voice at the back of your head begged you to let him ruin you, claim you.

It was getting easier and easier to let that hidden voice become the only voice.

You refused to meet his gaze, even as he served you more food than you would ever dream of having to yourself in the Autumn Court, and he resorted to his tent after almost fifteen minutes of nauseating silence.

He wouldn’t pry, but he would hold you to it. You knew that.

You released a breath through your mouth after he pulled the fabric shut, and you attempted to steady your breathing. The crackling of the fire wood was barely audible over the roaring in your brain.

His deep baritone ran laps over and over in your brain, and the sinful things he had groaned into your ear…

If you’d give me the honor of killing him, in every way he fears most, I would enjoy it.

Gods you smell good.

I know what it is. I’ve been thinking about this long before now.

You were in deep, deep shit.

~*~

Azriel had never felt so out of control as he did in that fucking hallway.

Every night, he listened to your breathing as he fell asleep, imagining it was right next to him.

He wanted to touch you in any way possible, even if it was just to drag his fingertip across your perfect face.

He didn’t know how he survived the trip back to Velaris, but he did. In one piece.

Thank the gods.

The House of Wind was the agreed upon meeting place for him, Rhys, and Cassian after the two of you finally returned, and you were right on schedule.

He attempted to escort you to the door, but you insisted on walking behind him, saying that it allowed you for more visibility.

He understood what you meant. You were entering an area that you were still very unfamiliar with, full of powerful fae males who could have been working against you the entire time Beron had agreed to let them use you.

“Use” you, as if you were some object created for a finite purpose.

However, he grinned and let you walk behind him, thinking that he would have done the same exact thing.

He knocked twice on the door, and it swung open to reveal Rhys and Cassian waiting patiently by the entrance.

For as long as he had been gone and how loud his brain had been over the past few days, he exhaled in relief at the sight of his brothers. His family.

He could hear Rhysand speaking clearly in his mind.

“If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters.”

He embraced them both, noting that they too seemed more relaxed at the sight of him safe and sound. Physically, at least.

Mentally, he was forever trapped in that crack in the wall, pressed against the chipping wood and grinding into your sopping wet—

“Y/N,” Cassian announced, spreading his arms wide. “Long time no see.”

You barely glanced his way.

“So,” he said, awkwardly moving his hands to his hips, “how did it go?”

Both you and Az looked down.

It was going to be a long night.

~*~

The briefing with the High Lord and his General was easier than expected.

Mostly because you sat in complete silence as Azriel gave them the run-down of what you learned, neglecting to inform them of what the two of you were doing as you learned the rebels’ plans.

You stuck to the shadows as plans were made around you. Just as you always had, and just as you always would.

After a while, the constant talking and joking and love between the three males became too much, and you stood from the wooden circular table abruptly.

How could you be happy for others when your shot at a family had been ripped from you?

“I would like to rest,” you exclaimed, “and bathe. Please.”

The seated males looked at you with wide eyes, and the High Lord Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Of course. You must be exhausted. There is a guest bedroom at the very end of the hallway,” he said, gesturing to the darkened hallway behind him. The sun had begun to set, illuminating the dining area with golden rays, while leaving the hallway almost pitch-black.

It made sense in your brain. The three of them would stay together, all bright and shiny, and you would walk away from it into the vacant darkness. Alone.

The universe truly has a sick sense of humor.

“Thank you,” you muttered, and turned to make your way down the hall.

You barely made it three steps before a chair screeched on the floor.

“Y/N.”

You froze, and turned around slowly.

“Why don’t I—” the Spymaster began, standing awkwardly and getting caught on his words. “Don’t you—do you need anything? Can I get you something?”

He fumbled with his hands, and you eyed his brothers, noting their confusion.

You creased your eyebrows. “No.”

And then you walked away.

Yes, you did need something, but you felt sick at the thought of admitting it, so you walked away from the only male who had ever offered you something without expecting anything in return.

You were so fucked.

You made it to the room and shut the door, not caring about the sound it made.

But, if you had turned around for just a second, you would have seen Azriel’s disappointment, and Cassian and Rhysand’s matching smirks.

~*~

The scalding hot water on your body was heavenly.

You sank beneath the water, basking in the expensive soaps and shampoos that you had never even heard of before. They were like butter on your skin, and your hair was in desperate need of a thorough cleaning.

Your nails scratched across your scalp, and you exhaled a deep breath.

For the first time in a long time, you felt good. Safe. Like you could take your time, and there wasn’t any sort of rush.

Your mind didn’t know what to do with all of that silence. So, like always, it found your favorite thing to be angry about.

Beron.

How dare he let the Night Court use you like this, and for what? To show off one of his slaves, his living weapon?

Your eye twitched in rage not just at him, but at yourself.

Deep down, you were grateful he did. You were grateful to be shown just a taste of what living was like, and the gorgeous views of Velaris. It had never occurred to you that life could be anything more than survival.

And you longed for it.

Your anger quickly turned to sadness. Sadness at a life that you would never have the chance to experience. You would crawl back to your cage at the tug of Beron’s leash, and life would go back to normal.

A tear escaped your eye, and you quickly wiped it away, standing up out of the bath and wrapping your drenched body in a towel.

You dried yourself off quickly, and slipped into a pair of fresh clothes that had been left in the drawers of the bedroom.

They smelled…strong. Like the female who had worn them before was unyielding. Smoke and iron coated the back of your nose, and you wondered who the set had belonged to.

You assumed the rich-as-Hel High Lord wouldn’t mind.

You began to dry off your hair and walk to the massive white bed, when a knock sounded at your door.

Your chest caved in, and your empty stomach lurched.

If your logic could not conclude who was behind the door, some animalistic tug inside you surely could.

You swallowed.

“Yes,” you said quietly.

The door opened to reveal the infamous Spymaster of the Night Court holding a bowl of steaming tomato soup in one hand, and a miniature biscuit in the other. The size of his hands dwarfed them.

“I figured you would be hungry. We didn’t eat much today,” he said, and slowly walked towards you.

You just…looked at him.

He really was beautiful. Tired eyes, large wings, broad shoulders, fuzzy hair likely ruffled by one of his brothers.

A bit of the wall around your heart chipped away.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he said, gesturing to the bed.

You don’t know why, but you complied.

You sat criss-cross on top of the silk bedsheets, likely worth more money than you would ever see in your life, and let him hand you the food.

Your stomach grumbled at just the scent.

You made yourself look him in his golden eyes and say, “thank you.”

He nodded, and backed away to close the door.

You took small sips of the soup, feeling your tummy finally coated in something warm and filling, before breaking off pieces of the biscuit and chewing them slowly.

Azriel watched you take every single bite.

He waited until there was not a drop left before offering to take it back to the kitchen.

You handed it to him with a slight nod and licked your lips. The magnitude of what he did began to hit you, and emotions began to crawl up your throat.

You took deep breaths and steadied yourself.

You would not break.

He returned quickly, and shut the door once more before moving to sit beside you. The bed was so large there might as well had been an ocean between the two of you.

“I thought of an idea,” he said, and your eyes met his.

“I’ll share something about me, and you can share something about you.”

The hope in his eyes was unmistakable.

You swallowed again, and looked away from his intense gaze. You knew what he wanted. He had been wanting to hear what the Illyrian male had done to you, and you had no idea why.

You also had no idea why you were so desperate to get it off your chest.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

He licked his lips and took in a quiet breath.

He seemed…nervous.

“When I was eight,” he began, “my brothers decided it would be fun to see what happened when you mixed an Illyrian's quick healing gifts with oil and fire. They poured oil on my hands, and lit them on fire. I barely remember the pain, I just remember screaming until my throat ran dry. My father’s warriors heard my screaming, but not quick enough to save my hands.”

All coherent thoughts had left you, and a burning pit of fury awakened in you. You could picture him younger, smaller, and completely helpless. Burning alive.

You hoped those brothers were dead, because nothing would be able to stop them from your wake now.

He brought his hands into the dim light, and you realized that you had never seen them gloveless. At least, not this closely.

They were scarred. Brutally.

“I was left with these,” he said quietly, and looked down at his large hands, forever tainted with that awful memory. The darkness in his eyes proved it.

You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to snatch those memories from his brain and deposit them into your own. All of that pain, all of that heartache, you would take it. All of it.

Your breathing quickened, and the only thing you could think to do was reach out and grab his hands into your own.

He jumped a bit, and his head snapped up to look at you, but he relaxed into your touch. You held his hands lightly and gently, scared to crack and shatter this beautiful gift you had been given.

You looked down at your crossed hands, and an instinct to comfort overcame you. You kept his eye contact for a second or two before you began to trace each scar with the tip of your finger, moving in each of the cracks and grooves delicately.

You didn’t know what you expected him to do, but the last thing you expected him to do was shudder.

His breath fanned your face, and your own eyes fluttered.

“Y/N,” he whispered shakily, “please tell me you feel it too. That pull inside your chest.”

You squished your eyes shut, and turned your head away from him.

Of course you did.

You didn’t let your hands leave his.

“I was yours the moment you saw me, wasn’t I? You knew right away?”

You swallowed harshly, but forced yourself to look him in the eye. A tear escaped as you nodded your head slowly.

He was yours.

“And you’re—you’re mine, aren’t you?” he said, and removed his hands from yours to frame your face with them.

You kept your eyes open, and your entire body began to tremble.

You didn’t want to be owned, or used like an object. It had happened enough in your life, and the last thing you needed was a territorial mate in your life who felt he had the right to do so.

Mate.

Had that been the first time you had truly admitted what he was to yourself?

And yet, under all that fear, your gut was telling you that he wouldn’t be like that. He wouldn’t see you as an object to use, or a female to own. He had taken care of you and let you decide how things worked in the brothel. You could see the sincerity in his eyes as you looked into them, and the warmth of his hands against your skin made you dizzy.

So you did it. You nodded.

“Yes Azriel. I am.”

And then you broke down.

You let the emotional toll of the past few weeks take over, and you cried into his touch. You wrapped your hands around his wrists keeping his hands in place, and he pressed his forehead against yours.

“You could be happy here Y/N. I know you could.”

“I can’t Azriel,” you wept. You did enjoy his name on your tongue.

“I cant—I can’t escape him.”

He knew who you were referring to, and he pressed his lips to your forehead in answer.

“We will get you out,” he whispered into the skin between your eyebrows. “I will burn the entire fucking court down if I have to.”

That only made you cry harder.

He tucked you into his chest, and you stayed there for a long while. Letting him stroke your still damp hair and breathing in his scent.

You sniffled and pulled away suddenly, remembering your deal.

“The Illyrian male from the brothel,” you began while wiping your nose with your sleeve, “was one of my many assignments from Beron.”

Azriel kept his eyes on your face, and leaned towards you.

“Beron had no qualms about me using my body for information. He implored it even. So, I would be sent to wherever that male was, I would give him what he wanted, and he would give me information. I never once left his company without a bruise, and it was typically more than that. Especially when he drank.”

An almost icy calm overtook Azriel’s body, like a hunter catching sight of their prey.

“That’s why I…I didn’t want to see him. I don’t want to see him. Ever.”

Azriel continued to look at you and took a deep breath before running his hand down his face. He put his hands back into his lap before pressing his face impossibly close to your own.

“Listen to me, please,” he said. “I will never let that happen to you again. Even if you don’t choose me, I won’t let it happen. Do you understand?”

You did. You really did.

You were the one who took the opportunity to rub your noses together. Your touch-starved body was already craving his touch. He smiled faintly, and closed his eyes.

“You are the only female I will ever think about for the rest of my life,” he mumbled against your lips. “It could be centuries from now, and the only thing I would see in other females was that they are not you.”

You let his words wash over you, but the more they sunk in, the more afraid you became.

Did you have to ruin fucking everything?

“What is it?” he asked softly. “My Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You didn’t know how to even begin to describe what had been fed into your sick brain for decades. There was no way to put it into words, but you tried.

“I’m…I’m dark Azriel,” you explained after a moment, and the tears returned. “I’m fucked up. I’m not a good person. I….I hate more than I love. It’s easier for me to just sit in where I am and what I am instead of trying to crawl myself out of it because I—I’m so scared.

“Whenever I’m given something good, something real, I squeeze the light out of it and—and I destroy it. Everything I touch gets ruined.”

You began to think back to past friendships you had with fellow shadowsingers or even just female fae in Beron’s court. They were kind to you and showed you that not everyone in the universe was evil, but you pushed them away. You didn’t deserve them.

You didn’t deserve him.

Besides, they would eventually tire of you anyway, right?

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

His forehead began to crease and a few of his own tears dripped down into his mouth. He was trying to find words to console you, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to make it better. Others had tried and failed.

You weren’t aware how truly stubborn the Spymaster was.

“I know you feel that way. I know,” he whispered. “But I will walk through that darkness with you, every step, and we will get you out of it. Together.”

Click.

You felt the snap of the mating bond, and you had never felt anything better.

“Just give me a chance, give us a chance,” he pleaded. “Please.”

You didn’t have a doubt in your mind when you responded.

“Okay. I will.”

And he smiled, so big it reached your eyes, and your heart became flooded with gratitude.

He began to laugh quietly, truly elated, and you smiled back toothlessly.

He shook his head in disbelief.

“I never thought I’d find this,” he said.

“Me neither.”

You didn’t even notice the bit of sun peaking through the shaded windows.

He swallowed and put his forehead to yours one final time, and you sat there quietly.

It was a few minutes before a sizzling feeling crept up your spine, and you realized what just happened.

He was your mate. You found him.

It awakened an animal inside of you, and unholy images and sounds began to slowly creep into your mind. The hall in the brothel appeared again, and those memories began to make your throat close up.

Azriel’s nostrils flared, and a devilish smirk came to his mouth.

“You’re already thinking about that love?” he mumbled. “I can smell you already.”

“I know,” you shot back. “I can smell yours too.”

He released a small groan.

“I want to do more than kiss you goodnight tonight Y/N,” he said with his eyes shut. “Tell me to leave and I will. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know you won’t,” you breathed. “Do it Azriel. I’m not afraid.”

And your mouths met in the most beautiful collision.

His taste was familiar, like coming to a home you had been limping towards for years. You didn’t realize how many details of it you had memorized.

He brought his hands to your face, and you pulled him closer by his collar. His tongue entered your mouth, and you cared less and less about how hard you were breathing.

His tongue mapped your mouth before he pulled away and said, “You’re sure about this?”

“I am,” you panted. “More than I have ever been.”

The glint of mischief entered his eye again, and he took the opportunity to completely pin you to the bed. He did it gently and playfully, and you laughed from your chest.

He paused with his mouth over yours.

“I think that’s my new favorite sound.”

You let your smile reach your eyes, and pulled him down to kiss you.

He slowed down his kissing this time, and he took his time to trace his hands down your body, just as you traced his scars. He made it down to your ass and gave it a squeeze, and you whimpered.

He chuckled darkly and moved his mouth to your neck.

“Never mind,” he said sunk his teeth into your collarbone. “That’s my favorite.”

Your eyes rolled back, and he began to suck hickeys all the way up to your ear-lobe.

“Azriel,” you groaned, “I want your clothes off.”

“We’ve got all night.”

“Exactly,” you said, and pulled his shirt up to his head. He leaned back onto his knees to let you pull it off all the way.

To say you were in awe was an understatement.

He had to have been training since he was born with the way his muscles were sculpted to perfection. His tan skin was riddled with tiny golden scars, and it only made him more beautiful. Your eyes went from his v-line to his messy brown hair, and a bit of drool may have exited your open mouth.

Beautiful

“Fuck,” he said. “Now I want to see you.”

You raised your arms let him take your shift off to reveal your lack of undergarment underneath. You then took the liberty to slide your pants off as well as your underwear, and you were completely revealed.

You wanted him to see all of you. Every inch.

He leaned back onto his knees again to look at you, and the mischief in his eyes mixed with adoration. You could see how it came from deep in his soul, and it almost brought another tear to your eye.

“I’ve waited my whole life for this,” he said, and leaned down on his forearms to suck on your left nipple.

A volcano erupted in your lower stomach, and you arched forward for more.

He kept his hands on your hips to keep you grounded onto the bed, and he licked and sucked into your skin. You brought your shaking hands to his thick hair, and he practically melted into your grasp.

He pressed kisses down the valley between your breasts before moving to the next one, and you bit your lip to quiet your moans.

“I want to hear you,” he said and looked up to make eye contact. “I asked Rhys and Cass to give us some privacy.”

You let a breath of air escape, and didn’t hold back your groans as he sucked on your skin perfectly.

He began to kiss down to your belly button, and your eyes widened when you realized what he was implying.

“No Azriel,” you said. “No.”

He pulled away immediately and looked like he was about to apologize before you said.

“I want you inside me first,” you said. “Please.”

He smiled and you.

“Only because you said please.”

He brought his mouth to yours, and your tongue began to explore his instead. He let you unbuckle him and slide his pants and undergarments off, and his erection sprung free.

You kissed over his cheeks as you cupped it, and he bucked into your palm. His moan almost sounded painful.

“I’m on a potion,” he said.

“Me too,” you replied. “Courtesy of Beron.”

He nodded against you, and kissed your cheek apologetically. He knew what you meant.

“Stay here,” he said. “Keep that beautiful brain here. With me.”

“I’m right here,” you said, and he nodded as he lined himself up. He licked his pointer and middle finger to feel your heat.

His smile only widened when he pressed his fingers against it and pulled them away soaked.

“Ready?” you ask him.

He brushed your now dried hair away from your forehead.

“Incredibly.”

And then he slid himself inside you, and your shadows left you for the first time ever.

His left him as well, and he paused deep inside you. His arms were shaking so harshly that he could barely keep himself up, but he watched where your eyes went.

Merely inches above his head, right where the final beams of sun were shining through from the sunset, your shadows began to dance together.

It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

You kept your eyes on him, and he turned his head back around to look at you.

The look in his eye said it all.

He brought his forehead to yours, and proceeded to make love to you.

You wished you could bottle that moment and live in it forever. The two shadows above you, his exquisite face contorted in pleasure, and the slice of heaven that was rising inside of you. Your brain was on fire and your heart was full.

You had never been happier.

After a while, you felt him start to shake inside of you, and he seemed to be holding back.

“Let go Azriel,” you said. “Don’t be gentle.”

And he wasn’t.

He rocked into you hard, and your own orgasm hit you out of no where.

Your walls tightened around him, and his sweaty forehead tucked into your neck as he released his own climax into you.

You realized that you had never been so close to another being before. He breathed deeply into your neck trying to bring air back into his lungs, and you scratched your fingers over his muscular back.

It felt good. Really good.

He kissed a few of the love bites that he had left from before and breathed in your hair. You brought your hands up his back and felt his muscles contract as he settled himself on top of you.

“Thank you Azriel,” you said and kissed his ear. “I will always choose you. Always.”

~*~

Azriel did not lie to you when he said that you had all night.

After he removed himself from inside of you, your whimper at the loss of contact brought him to his knees. Literally.

He dragged you to the end of the bed and feasted on you until you were in tears, and then you pulled him up to you and pinned him underneath you. You set yourself on his face while facing his feet, and you leaned down to take him into your hot mouth.

The two of you tasted each other simultaneously, and the way you withered above him and begged him to just last a little longer—

“Morning,” you mumbled, and he blinked. He didn’t even remember falling asleep, but he had you wrapped in his arms tightly.

“Good morning,” he said, and held you tighter.

“What were you thinking about?” you asked with a grin.

He chuckled. “I think you know.”

You smiled again and hummed happily. Your naked body pressed against his was something he didn’t know he needed. He had been missing that part of himself his whole life.

He loved it. He loved you.

You rubbed your eye and mumbled, “what time is it?”

“Late morning,” he replied and massaged your scalp with his hand. “You hungry?“

“A little,” you replied. “Will we see Rhysand and Cassian today?”

His heart fluttered at the thought of you knowing them.

“If you’d like,” he said. “Typically mates want the house to themselves for at least a week after their bond snaps.”

You chuckled. “I’d like that very much, but I think they deserve to know what happened.”

He really did love you.

“Okay,” he said. “Why don’t we have them over for dinner then. I still want you for myself for the next few hours.”

“You will. And all the days after that.”

~*~

You were sick to your stomach with nerves all day. Azriel’s fingers and tongue were helpful to take the edge off, but not completely. You wanted to rewrite the first impression that you gave to the High Lord and the General. You wanted your mate’s family to at least be able to tolerate you, and storming around and huffing and puffing all over the gorgeous house they let you stay in really didn’t help.

But, you were ready to try, and it went eons better than you expected.

Cassian and Rhysand brought baskets of more food than you had seen in a long time, and Azriel had prepared food on top of that as well.

By the time everyone was finally seated your nerves really started to take over, and you sat close to Azriel around the circular table. Cassian smiled and began to help everyone with their servings.

Rhysand smiled as well, and even threw you a wink. You grave him a little smile back, never even thinking a High Lord could be so…normal.

As the meal began, Azriel pressed his thigh against yours. He could see that your stomach was in such a knot that you had a hard time eating, so he did his best to comfort.

It helped more than you expected to, and you managed to get a couple of pieces of bread down.

Rhysand and Cassian had been eyeing both Azriel and each other, waiting for whatever they expected him to say. The High Lord rested his head on his hands while the General was more leaned back.

They wouldn’t pry. They would wait until the both of you were ready. It made you even more confident in your decision.

You knew Azriel would better explain it all than you would, so you let him. He managed to phrase it all better than you ever could, and Rhysand and Cassian only seemed to get more joyful and prideful as Azriel went on.

He left out anything that would have made you uncomfortable, like the brothel hallway and the explicit moments from the night before, and when he finally used the word mate, you could have sworn a mist had formed over the males’ eyes.

Rhysand smiled. “Congratulations. To both of you.”

You kept your head down but made a point to thank him with the gratitude in your eyes.

“I liked you from the beginning,” Cassian said with a smirk. “You remind me of my own mate. You two will get along well I’m sure.”

He said so many things in those three sentences, and they warmed you from the inside out.

“The rebels don’t have a planned attack for another week, so why don’t you two take some time for yourselves,” Rhysand said.

Cassian hummed in agreement. “I’ve heard the Summer Court has some lovely cabins close to the water. Rhys surely has enough in his pockets to contribute to that.”

A wave of confidence hit you.

“I can’t,” you said, louder and shakier than you expected. The room froze, and Cassian tilted his head in confusion.

“I—I’m not allowed in the Summer Court. Their definition of fun is more tame than my own.”

The last thing you expected from Cassian was for him to throw his head back in laughter.

“You’re banned from the Summer Court?” Rhysand asked with a laugh.

“Yes. For Public Intoxication,” you replied and couldn’t hide your smile.

Cassian pointed to himself. “Destruction of Property.”

You breathed out a laugh genuine enough to let your shoulders shake and even Azriel brought his thumb and pointer finger to his nose with a smile.

Amidst the chaos of laughter, Rhysand made eye contact with you. It was intense enough to keep you locked in, but his face was framed only with joy.

“Welcome to the Night Court.”

You were home.

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag did not work or was not added. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy @seraphqueen123 @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @sayhitomommy @wickedazriel @xxpeachyxo @evlynclia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopia @wingedmiken @moonattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @red-highlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-scripture @wolfyland07 @are-y0u-sirius @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff

[orchidsncrake]

where were you when i was out of line?

pairing/fandom: joe goldberg/rhys montrose, you (2018)

rating: explicit

tags: pwp, dom/sub, dom!joe goldberg, sub!rhys montrose, power bottom joe goldberg, service top rhys montrose, rhys is the eat-the-rich killer, degradation, praise kink, punishment, anal sex

word count: 4,664

summary: rhys gets jealous and kills kate, and joe is not best pleased. how else are you meant to reprimand your psychopathic stalker but turn him into a lovely service top?

ao3: where were you when i was out of line? - orchidsncrake - You (TV 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

fic under the cut :)

“You’re fucking impossible, Rhys,” Joe hisses, ushering the other into his apartment and slamming the door behind them. He takes off his coat in a huff, hanging it on the hook. He reaches out his hand for Rhys’ overcoat, but when the other only raises his eyebrow at him, mouth slightly agape, Joe tugs it off him himself. 

“That’s expensive wo-” “Shut the fuck up.” Rhys’ mouth snaps shut, and he cooperates. He tosses it into the hook next to his own and paces it deeper into the apartment, hands waving wildly. He runs them through his hair, messying it. He finally stops, hands on his hips and eyes boring into Rhys, who hasn’t moved from the entryway.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He spits, trying and failing to regulate his breathing. He feels he may burst an artery. 

“I’m so glad you asked,” Rhys responds, sliding all too easily into his usual playful demeanor. “I was thinking that I was sick of that bitch getting in the way,” he snaps, slipping from playful to venomous in half a second.

“So you kill her?” He asks, voice pitchy and shrill. Rhys slides further into the apartment, presumably to try to soothe Joe, but Joe holds a shaking finger at him, and he stills.

“Come on, mate. It’s not like you to care so much about some girl ,” Rhys says, rolling his eyes with the last words. He stands with his palms outstretched, almost supplicating. 

“That ‘girl’ is Katherine fucking Galvin!” He all but shrieks. “Now you haven’t only killed Malcolm, but his girlfriend, too! Who, need I remind you, is only the heiress to one of the most famous, powerful companies in the world.”

“Was.”

Joe’s eye twitches. “What?” “Was. Was the heiress,” Rhys responds, looking up from under his brows. Joe could kill him.

“I should fucking– I don’t even know! What do you do when your psychopathic stalker murders your neighbor? Spank him?” Joe rambles.

“If you’re nasty,” Rhys snarks, apparently suicidal. Joe stares at him, astonished. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve upset you, alright?” Rhys tries again, eyes trained on Joe’s clenched fists. “But she really was a problem, mate. The whole lot of them are-”

“No. Do not tie this to your Robin Hood killing-the-wealthy bullshit because that’s not what this is.” He paces around in tight circles, tugging frantically at his hair and sweater. “This is you being a fucking wackjob that can’t go a week without murdering someone because you have the self-control of a hormonal teenager.”

Rhys’ eyes narrow at the last comment. “It’s not hormonal.”

Joe flounders. “That’s what you’re latching onto? You just killed a woman because, what, she might’ve looked at me once, and you’re pissed that I said it’s hormonal?”

Rhys waves his hand dismissively, unwilling to explain himself. “She didn’t just look at you once, did she? She leered damn near constantly, always gawking at you from across the room. You just didn’t see it.”

“You,” Joe starts, pointing a shaking finger at Rhys again, “are out of your goddamn mind.”

Rhys only deadpans him, though the corners of his mouth pinch in suppressed annoyance. “She had to go. She wasn’t going to do you any good.”

“She wasn’t going to do me any good, or she was doing me better than you?”

Rhys’s lip curls up in a sneer, and Joe is almost surprised by the hostility. “She isn’t better than me,” he bites out.

“I don’t know, Rhys,” he presses his palm to his forehead. “She doesn’t go around killing people, does she? Didn’t she?”

“I did it for you!” Rhys shouts suddenly, pumping his fist down. Joe blinks, taken aback. He never gets angry, and certainly not to the point of yelling. He’s never seen Rhys with any other expression than vague sadistic pleasure. At least he knows what to do with that (namely, stare blankly at him until he goes away), but this – his jaw clenching, eyes squinting, and neck tendon pulled tight – this he has no idea what to do with. He stares at him, speechless. “Can’t you see that I’m doing it for you?” Rhys says, voice cracking slightly. “I got rid of her for you! For us.” He swipes a hand over his face as if trying to pull on his usual cool veneer.

“Why would killing someone be good for me?” Joe asks incredulously, his voice soft. He doesn’t have any more energy for yelling.

Rhys laughs a bit hysterically and throws his hands up. “I don’t know, Joe . But it’s what I know how to do.”

“Well, you can’t anymore,” Joe says. “No more killing, no more body part harvesting, no more anything but your crochet needles and mayoral campaign.” He knows it sounds strikingly similar to putting his foot down – actually, he knows that’s precisely what this is, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He can’t just forgo telling him not to kill people.

“You cannot be serious,” Rhys scoffs. He rubs his temples impatiently. “This is what you are, Joe. You’re a killer, and so am I. That’s why we work! Your other girlfriends,” he spits the word, “didn’t know you like I do.”

“The last one did, but she kept fucking killing people with wild abandon until I had to kill her,” Joe groans, the memory an old wound by now.

“Is that what you’re going to do, Joe? Kill me?” The way Rhys hums the words is nauseating.

“You’re jealous. That’s all this is,” Joe says, skipping the argument — no point in fighting with a psychopath about morals.

“Jealous?” Rhys parrots, raising his brows.

“Yes, jealous. You already admitted it. You killed Kate because she allegedly looked at me too often. You killed Malcolm to get my attention, and it worked, and when you didn’t keep every fucking ounce of it, it was Simon, then Gemma. Honestly, I think you just killed her because you were bored, and it had nothing to do with protecting me. And now, Kate.” He pauses to take a breath, tapping his foot. An insane idea occurs to him, and he’s too pissed not to say it. “Is getting you to stop killing as easy as giving you more attention?”

Rhys stares at him, and Joe watches as his expression morphs from anger to poorly concealed embarrassment. Joe barks out a hysterical laugh.

“You killed Kate to get my attention ?”

“Well, you were distracted, weren’t you?” Rhys explodes. “Always worried about Kate and her stupid fucking billion-dollar sob story. I did you a favor!”

“You disobeyed me,” Joe seethes. “I told you, we do what I say when I say it, and you went and did whatever you wanted anyway. You see how that’d be upsetting, don’t you?” Rhys shrinks away from him, looking almost timid, though Joe isn’t crazy enough to think he’s capable of that. “I did it for you,” he repeats feebly. 

“What do you want, Rhys? When you planned to kill Kate, how did you see this going?”

“I had hoped you’d appreciate the effort.”

“Like a cat owner appreciates the disemboweled half of a mouse, right?”

Rhys pulls a face. “Not exactly.”

Joe huffs and then points at the bedroom. “Go.”

“What?”

“Now is not the time to test me, Rhys. I’m still pissed with you and would very much like to beat you senseless, but I’m choosing to be the bigger person here. Now go.” He shakes his hand again for emphasis. Rhys gives him a sidelong look but turns on his heels and makes his way towards the bedroom. “Shoes.” He freezes and sighs, then two dull thuds of dress shoes hitting the rubber mat. Then Joe is alone in the living room.

How the hell does he get himself in these situations? Only he could move to London with the distinct purpose of not killing people and instead end up in a situationship with an Englishman with a penchant for mutilation. A possessive one, at that, who occasionally behaves how Joe expects an evil labrador would. He has to be cursed or something similar. He combs his fingers through his hair, haphazardly smoothing it down, and takes a deep breath to steel his nerves. We will not kill Rhys. We will not kill Rhys. He doesn’t know any better, like an untrained -  oh, who is he kidding? He knows better. He’s just out of his goddamn mind. He walks down the hall and into the bedroom.

Rhys is sitting on the bed already, one ankle resting on the other knee, trying too hard at nonchalance. When he comes in, he looks up at Joe, but his eyes dart back down at the sound of the door latching. Joe stands at the edge of the bed, a few feet from Rhys, and crosses his arms.

“Look at me.” Rhys, for his part, obeys, but not without an attitude. He looks up at Joe with a faint smirk, brows raised in challenge. Then he sits back, hands folded in his lap, and cocks his head at him. “Don’t be a brat,” Joe says quickly. That, at least, gets Rhys to falter. He smiles incredulously.

“What?”

“You wanted my attention. You have it now. Don’t make me kick you out.” That gets him to shut up, and the slight timidity from before returns. Joe steps forward until his shins press against Rhys’, and he runs a hand through the other’s hair. He uses it as leverage to tilt his head up to look at him. “I’m going to talk now, and you’ll keep your mouth shut. Understand?” Rhys looks like he’s about to make some comment, but a sharp tug at his hair silences him. He nods his head. “You disobeyed me, Rhys, and I’m tempted just to leave you to your thoughts tonight to punish you.” He cards through Rhys’ hair again, almost grinning at how the other leans into it. “But I won’t, because then you’ll just go and kill someone else, won’t you?” He asks almost angrily, digging his fingers into Rhys’ scalp. “And I can’t have that. So, I’m going to allow you to make it up to me in a way that benefits us both. How’s that sound?”

Rhys blinks up at him a bit slowly. His clasped hands are untangled, and they rest limply in his lap. “Good,” he says roughly. Joe nods agreeably.

“Good. Now, I know you aren’t good at resisting your impulses, as you’ve proven one again,” Rhys’ lip curls for a moment before relaxing, pacified by Joe’s petting, “but you are good at the other end of the instinctual spectrum.” Rhys cocks his head, smirking a bit as he immediately understands Joe’s point, the pervert. He nods, and Joe echoes the movement. “Do you want to fuck me, Rhys?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Rhys breathes cockily. He gets his hair pulled for it.

“I will let you. It is a privilege, especially after that stunt, and you will have to earn everything up to and throw it. You will do everything I tell you to to the best of your ability as a lesson in obedience because–?” Joe trails off expectantly. Rhys’ nose wrinkles.

“Because I killed Kate.”

“Right. And not only did you kill Kate…”

“I killed her after you told me not to,” Rhys all but pouts.

“See, you are smart. Now undo my belt.”

Rhys jumps at the order, forgetting the humiliation from moments before in the face of something he wants. He really does have a one-track mind when you think about it, Joe muses. His belt clangs and Rhys immediately goes to undo his slacks, but Joe tuts. “Did I say you could unbutton my pants yet?”

Rhys sighs, shoulders drooping, though his fingers don’t move from Joe’s fly. He looks up at Joe with his best puppy dog eyes. “No.”

“Do you want to ask?” Joe coerces. Rhys rolls his shoulders.

“May I please–” he starts, voice dripping with sarcasm, but Joe cuts him off by pulling his hair painfully. “ Ah – may I undo your slacks?” He tries again, sans sarcasm.

“Yes, you may,” Joe says, smoothing Rhys’ hair. Rhys undoes his slacks, then looks up at Joe for more permission. Joe nods, smiling softly, and Rhys pushes his slacks down until Joe can step out of them, leaving him in his boxers. “Now sit up at the pillows.” Rhys slides up the bed, still fully dressed, sitting with his back against the headboard. He watches as Joe strips off his sweater, then his button-down and undershirt, leaving him in only his underwear. Rhys’ eyes rove over his body shamelessly, then flick up to meet Joe’s.

“Do you think you’ve earned preparing me?” Joe asks just to be a dick. He’s entitled to it. He watches Rhys battle himself in his head, caught between saying yes to be a prick or saying no and getting the night on with. Finally, his better judgment wins out, and he shakes his head. “I’m glad we agree.” Joe gets up on the bed on his knees and slides a hand down his torso teasingly, dipping his thumb into his waistband and pulling the slightest bit, but not enough. “Get the lube from the nightstand, then set it on the bed.” Rhys complies, his more basal desires winning out over his common sense, as always. Joe picks up the bottle and toys with it, then beckons Rhys forward. “Take off my boxers.

Rhys’ eyes flit between Joe’s midriff and face as he dips his fingers into his boxers, pulling them down slowly. As soon as Joe’s cock is visible, though, he gives up eye contact altogether and settles to gawk. He’s still soft – in all honesty, he’s still pissed, and he’s never been one to get it up out of anger – but Rhys seems wholly unbothered as he helps Joe out of them and then tosses them on the floor. Joe gets off the bed and walks around Rhys before settling against the headboard, taking his spot. Rhys turns around, still on his knees, and watches as Joe lubes his fingers.

“You’re going to stay right there,” he starts, spreading his legs and sliding his hand between them, “and watch me. You’ll only touch me when I say you can, understand?”

Rhys nods, resituating on his knees. “Yes.” He gawks at Joe’s hand, and Joe smirks, pressing his middle finger into himself. He lets out a shaky breath, settling deeper into the bed and letting his legs fall open further. He sinks his finger into the knuckle and rolls his hips down, acclimating. Rhys makes a strangled sound and Joe opens his eyes, not remembering having let them slide shut, to grin at him.

“Do you like watching?” He taunts, pumping his finger carefully. Rhys sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and nods stiffly. “I bet you’d like to be the one fingering me more, though, wouldn’t you?” “Yes, fuck, of course, I would,” Rhys breathes.

“And why aren’t you?” Joe draws his finger out and pushes in with two, grunting softly. Rhys’ tongue laves over his lip.

“Because I killed that bitch, Kate,” Rhys hisses. Joe kicks him quickly in the side, not too hard, but enough to make a point. “Because I killed Kate, and you told me not to,” he corrects, rubbing his ribs. 

Joe hums approvingly and lets his head loll back, hips rocking gently against his hand. He fits a third finger in and then calls it good. His cock has chubbed up a bit and lays against his hip. He takes it in his fist, pumping slowly, torturing them both. “Stand up and strip.”

Rhys does as he’s told, quickly shedding his slacks, sweater, undershirt, and boxers. Joe watches the show hotly, languidly jacking himself, exhaling when it feels too good. “Now up here, between my legs on your knees.” He spreads his legs to welcome Rhys, releasing his cock to stroke his shoulder. He uses his left hand to pet down Rhys’ chest, tracing the lines of his abs, purposefully avoiding the gaze that’s boring into his skull. Finally, he looks up and grins at how wide and pleading Rhys’ eyes are. He cups his cheek.

“There he is,” he murmurs, stroking his cheekbone. “Isn’t it better when you listen to me?” Rhys, testament to how beside himself Joe has gotten him, only nods and greedily looks over Joe’s body. Joe chuckles and spreads his legs more. “You’ve been good so far, Rhys. Do you think you’ve earned fucking me?”

“Please,” he whispers, forgoing the question. “Please, can I kiss you?”

Joe raises an eyebrow. “You want to kiss me?”

“Yes,” Rhys rasps, eyes darting to Joe’s lips. “Please let me.”

Joe laughs and pets Rhys’ hair when the other makes a face. “You’re going to have to prove you deserve it.”

Rhys grumbles unhappily but accepts the answer. He falters, not knowing how exactly he’s allowed to prove it. Joe answers his unasked question by shifting further down the bed until his head rests on the pillows. Rhys follows, settling between Joe’s legs. He makes for the nightstand drawer, but Joe stops him. “You’re not using one tonight.”

Rhys furrows his brows but decides not to question it, apparently worried that mentioning the irregularity will change Joe’s mind. Joe slicks his hand again with lube as Rhys positions himself above him on all fours, bracketing him. They’re about the same size, Rhys even a bit leaner, but he looks small to Joe like this. Staring down at him like he’s worried this will all be taken away in the next moment, like Joe will admit this is all a cruel joke, and of course, he wouldn’t let him fuck him after he outwardly disobeyed him, was Rhys stupid? Joe softens his gaze and scratches Rhys’ nape, enjoying this raw version of him more than he’d ever admit. Just like he’d never admit that Rhys killing Kate did mean something to him, that the gesture, if it could even be called that, didn’t only anger him. It was thoughtful on some twisted level. He likes being wanted so consumingly by someone that they’d kill for him, and he likes even more being able to trust them to clean up their mess. Still, he can’t very well encourage that kind of behavior, and so he’d needed to have a firm hand. It was for Rhys’ own good. 

Joe carefully takes Rhys into his hand, humming when the other gasps into his ear. He strokes him slowly, squeezing a bit at the head the way Rhys likes, careful not to set him off too early. He tends to get overexcited when Joe takes charge, and while it’s sometimes adorable, Joe would rather not have prepared himself for nothing. Speaking of, he’d better get a move on.

“Are you going to fuck me nicely, Rhys?” Joe says filthily, rolling his wrist to hit a sensitive spot. Rhys bucks into his hand. “Hm? Are you going to listen to me like you should have in the first place?”

Rhys squeezes his eyes shut above him, panting hotly. “Yes, Joe, I will.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. Please, I’ll listen.”

“Tell me how much you want it,” he teases, enjoying keying up the other.

“So bad, Joe. You’re incredible. I need you, please,” Rhys presses his nose into Joe’s neck and inhales, which had been weird initially but something Joe quickly came to appreciate. Any display of devotion was fine by him. “Please, I’m sorry. Please let me.”

It’s the former apology that finally wins Joe over. He releases Rhys’ cock and grabs his hips instead, pulling him further between his legs. Rhys looks up at him wide-eyed, looking for reassurance, which he gets in a nod. His mouth drops open as Joe guides his dick to rest against his hole, making him into little more than a tool, which Rhys is very obviously enjoying. He likes to feel useful. Rhys lowers himself onto his forearms and presses his hips forward far gentler than usual, and Joe guides him, drawing him in with both hands on his ass. Joe groans low in his chest as Rhys slides home, cradling the other’s head to his neck, letting him breathe him in. 

“Good boy,” Joe praises when Rhys’ hips press flush to his ass. He strokes his back soothingly, rolling his eyes at the ceiling as Rhys insists on keeping his face buried in his neck. He feels wetness and recognizes it as Rhys’ tongue and considers scolding him but decides against it. It’s better that he just licks than bites – he doesn’t know how he’d hide the bite mark of a grown man. Or worse, explain it when someone sees.

“Can I move?” Rhys rasps, hands flexed at Joe’s side.

“Yes, Rhys, you can move,” Joe says, trying to steady his voice. Rhys nods, and Joe can hear his saliva crackle when he swallows thickly. Rhys draws back slowly and rolls his hips just as tentatively. “It’s okay, Rhys. I’m not mad,” Joe admits, deciding he can’t take upsetting him any longer. He’s pissed – or was – but he doesn’t hate him. He could never afford to.

“You’re not?” Rhys asks, sounding pitiful.

Joe pets his hair and gropes his ass a little firmer, spurring him to thrust deeper. “No, I’m not. I wa–” he cuts himself off with a gasp when Rhys angles his hips lower. “I was before,” he starts again, swallowing to contain himself, “but I’m not mad at you. You worried me.” Joe cups Rhys’ face and draws him up to see his face. He kisses Rhys’ cheek and pets his hair. He wraps his legs around his hips, guiding his thrusts more.

“I’m sorry,” Rhys whispers feebly, hiding his face in Joe’s neck again. Humility isn’t his strong suit, and Joe again allows him the comfort.

“I know you are.” Joe digs his nails into Rhys’ ass a bit, adding a bit of deserved pain but not able to bring himself to really hurt him. “You can make it up to me now, Rhys. Don’t you want that?”

Rhys nods and tries to say something in the affirmative, but his voice only cracks and fails. His thrusts get a little rougher. Joe tuts, and he gentles. Rhys tests different speeds, waiting for Joe to praise or scold him, until finally, Joe scratches his head pleasantly and moans openly. He tilts Rhys’ hips a bit until he’s hitting his prostate more often than not, then relaxes into the pillow.

“Good boy. Just like that.”

Rhys finally pushes himself up onto his hands to gawk at Joe. His blue eyes are

half-lidded and hazy, but the way he’s staring at Joe is so loving that he smiles up at him and runs his thumb over his bottom lip. Rhys welcomes it into his mouth happily, sucking on it as he keeps fucking into Joe. The warmth coursing through his belly and surrounding his thumb makes Joe sigh in pleasure, his head rolling to the side. He keeps his eyes open no matter how desperately he wants to let them slide shut because Rhys isn’t forfeiting eye contact, and Joe doesn’t want to deny him. Rhys mumbles something, and Joe slides his thumb from his mouth, resting it on his bottom lip.

“What’s that?”

“Can I kiss you now?” Rhys asks desperately as his hips stutter. He catches himself immediately and forces himself to still, steadying himself with a deep breath before resuming his earlier pace. Joe smiles appreciatively, doesn’t bother answering properly, and just pulls Rhys into a kiss. He keeps it gentle, focusing on Rhys’ lower lip and licking into his mouth occasionally, tracing his teeth, and Rhys just takes it. He kisses back weakly but only to follow Joe’s lead, chasing his tongue lazily or pressing into a particularly insistent kiss. Joe rumbles happily.

“You’re doing so good for me.”

“Please,” Rhys begs incoherently. Joe can feel his muscles tensing and knows he’s close. 

All things considered, he has lasted reasonably long, so he decides to indulge him.

“Get me off first, and you’ll have earned it.” Rhys nods, gasping, and hovers his head over Joe’s cock. With a confirming nod, he takes Joe in his hand, tightening the pleasure in Joe’s gut. His legs clamp around Rhys’ hips and bucks into his hand, making Rhys chase him. “Lick your palm,” Joe gasps. Rhys complies, licking a messy stripe across his hand and wrapping his fist around Joe’s dick again. The slide is easier, and Joe shudders, panting at the ceiling as Rhys devotes all his attention to getting him off. He can feel himself spasming around Rhys’ cock and shushes him when he cries out, doubtlessly painfully close. Rhys starts begging Joe to come, which is something in itself, then gently dips his finger into Joe’s slit. He moans as his legs go limp, then his body surges as he releases over Rhys’ hand. It’s barely dribbled onto his belly before Rhys is babbling breathlessly in his ear to join him. He nods, still coming down, and Rhys shoves his arms under Joe and holds him to his chest. He jackhammers into him, and then he stills, ramrod straight. Joe pets his hair as he comes, shushing him and kissing his temple as he chokes out odd sounds and gasps. Finally, Rhys grunts and shifts his weight to one forearm. Joe croons, still catching his breath.

“Good, good boy,” he praises, petting and caressing his back. He uses his free hand to press his head down to his chest, and Rhys goes happily. Joe’s face scrunches up when he slips out of him, squirming a bit at the feeling of his cum dripping out. They’ll need to shower, both because of that and that now Rhys’ chest is pressed against Joe’s cum covered abdomen. Rhys is either unaware or unbothered, entirely content to listen to Joe’s heartbeat and have his hair played with. Joe feels slightly absurd, laying his legs open for Rhys to cling to him because his hands are still trapped under his back, but it’s pleasant enough that he pushes the thought away. Rhys trembles with an aftershock, and Joe laughs softly.

“You okay?” He murmurs, tucking his chin in to see the half of Rhys’ face not squished into his chest. The other nods against him and kisses his collarbone.

“Are you?” Rhys asks back.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Joe pets him a bit longer, then lifts Rhys’ chin to look at him. “You can’t do that again,” he states simply. Rhys nods and shuts his eyes.

“I know.”

“Will you do it again?”

Rhys hesitates. “I don’t know.”

Joe nods slowly and guides Rhys’ head back down. He scratches between his shoulder blades. “I’m not going to leave you.”

“I’m sure you’ve said that before,” Rhys mumbles, surprising Joe. It hurts, but he knows the other is right.

“I have,” he admits, “but I never will again.” He lets them lapse into silence, trusting that Rhys understands him.

“You promise?”

“Just as long as your corpse offerings stay between us and don’t get me stuck with a red notice, then yes, I promise.”

Rhys hums, apparently satisfied. “When are we going to shower?” Joe chuckles. “When I can feel my legs.”

“Mkay,” he mumbles. Joe watches Rhys’ eyes slide shut, glad he’s stayed calm this long. He knows he can’t expect Rhys not to be, well, Rhys. And he knows just as well that he can’t lie to himself and say he doesn’t like Rhys for who he is. He just has to accept it and occasionally degrade him when he steps out of line – which is never the solution he expected he’d have to take when dealing with a murderous psychopath. But, whatever works. And this, in some sick, twisted way, definitely works.

[ae-neon]

What Should Nesta Have Done? (Cabin Years Ramble)

okay this came about as a response to THIS post (I'm linking because I don't want to invalidate the take, this is just my opinion which is informed by my own bias) @mariekecath I hope you don't mind, I just like to ramble

In response to OP's excerpts, I said

Literally in the last two excerpts 1) Nesta is making sure Feyre doesn't get robbed, which she explains and 2) goes out to chop wood AGAIN, without being asked to

You know who did nothing and was asked nothing by Feyre? Elain. Feyre also only ever favoured Elain in that way and then never really held her accountable or even pressed the issue of Rhys forgiving Elain but not Nesta because "NeStA iS iLLyRiAn"

Feyre and Nesta are two sides of the same coin, something Feyre acknowledges in the first few chapters. Feyre does good but her thoughts can be brutal and selfish - she wishes her family would die, she says it's okay her mother died because they have one less mouth to feed, she thinks Andras might be a Fae and kills him thinking good riddance.

And that's fine that's just who she is in these harsh circumstances, that's how she deals with everything

Nesta just says all of it out loud. The acotar slut shaming comment was in defense of her relationship with Tomas, who she loved at that point. She goes to chop wood twice, even if she complains about doing it. She stands up to the CoTB because of what the Fae did to the humans. Nesta doesn't trust the mercenaries but resists and HL's glamour + takes a two day journey to the wall to try bring Feyre back. She also tries to make up when Feyre returns.

[I hope this doesn't come off as mean or harsh, I'm just trying to fit as much as I can in this limited word count.]

Feyre dislikes her whole family except maybe Elain but even then it's not like she's overly fond of her. That's just how they were. But they were family and they loved each other.

Until sjm overplayed the cruel step sisters trope to try make Feyre's trauma backstory comparable to the Fae when she abandoned that Feyre's humanity was what made her special.

@wolfnesta had a great response to the initial post: HERE

I see a lot of "I acknowledge what Nesta did" vs "Nesta bears no responsibility" stuff these days and I get how Nesta fans can find themselves on either side.

But I think it's important to acknowledge an important factor in this : sjm is a bad author.

This might be an uncomfortable statement for some of you because after all; SJM wrote Nesta, many fans are readers of all three of her series and she obviously has all of us so wrapped up in these worlds, right?

Well, no. She is a bad author. She is inconsistent, lazy with her world building and character development, been called out for plagiarism, racism, sexism, portraying toxic behaviour as good and romanticizing abusive tendencies.

Personally, I wouldn't care about these bad elements if all the books were adult fantasies - and yes i know she was forced to publish under YA initially, but she should have taken that into account and changed the material to reflect that. That's her responsibility as an adult writing for teens.

ANYWAYS ALL THAT TO FINALLY GET TO THE POINT OF THIS POST (SORRY)

If SJM had been a better author, her initial book (or at least her retconning) would have included acknowledging Elain and Nesta as fully fleshed out characters and reflecting that they did take part in life in the Cabin from cooking to cleaning.

If there can be a second daemati and whole scenes revisited and blatantly contradicted for Rhysand's sake - then Nesta could have had a small gig as a governess at the Beddor house, Elain could have been Papa A's primary caretaker and planted herbs and veg alongside her flowers.

But SJM is a bad author. She could have humanised the characters who are supposed to be special specifically for their humanity by : let Feyre acknowledge her own sometimes selfish pov, give Nesta the credit she deserves for doing her part even if she complained about doing it, let Elain be an active person outside of (BOTH) her sisters coddling her.

Instead, Feyre must be fully fae-ized, complete with doubling down on the no nuance trauma porn backstory where she starts hunting at 14 years old? no I mean 11 years old? Well actually she was only 8 when her dying mother passed sole responsibilty of the family and Feyre immediately became the only human in a room full of NPCs.

[AGAIN JUST A REMINDER its Feyre who doesn't even ask Elain to do anything but expects it of Nesta and their disabled father. Feyre also only protects and coddles Elain. Feyre and Nesta are two sides of the same coin]

So in answer to the title; Nothing.

You either accept what Sarah Says and acknowledge Nesta and Elain were the evil step sister archetypes and credit them for their development - that alone makes Feyre the asshole for not painting Nesta but painting Elain.

OR you break the Sarah Says rule and think of them as 3D characters and acknowledge Feyre's bias towards her own struggle neglects to take into account her sister's contributions (- which again makes Feyre the asshole for not painting Nesta but painting Elain)

[bookofmirth]

Lele, I have a rambling though

We always have discussions about possibilities for SJM future books (especially acotar 5) and I always read interpretations that are done so very tastefully and with a lot of knowledge on text interpretation, book context and narratives

but the thing is… ppl always treat SJM as this super hiper mastermind and after HOFAS and how messy and not good it was (honestly it was terrible) … I’m a little afraid about acotar 5 and sjm choosing to go with the easiest way (which, for me, would be choosing Elriel - since with Gwyn she would have to treat her trauma her carefully and be more cautions on her narrative) and I don’t know if I see her doing it 😓

(Also… I would like to say as my last though of someone who is following her since 2018 - that SJM loves to write about powerful woman and the friendships between them and their bonds but to let the fandom be where it is today… young impressionable girls treating each other with such hostility and disrespect… I know she probably can’t say anything bc of contracts but man is a hard pillow to swallow that she “let” the fandom be where it is today… which is a horrible place.)

Anon, have some rambling thoughts of mine!!! hehehe

A big difference between acotar and hofas is how thoughtfully she generally treats the acotar characters. I've been thinking a lot about this the past few days and the main thing I dislike about hofas is how the plot and world building absolutely take over everything to the detriment of the characters. I cannot understate how much I dislike Bryce, and I've always pinpointed her lack of consistent values as the core reason why. hofas really, really emphasized that writing flaw. Not character flaw, but writing flaw.

People acting like sjm is some mastermind drives me crazy when we can see all the plot holes and inconsistencies and retcons. One of these days, someone should make a list of them. Anyway, she mentioned rereading the acotar series sometime last year, and I would bet you good money that she did so in order to see what she can use. She has said explicitly that she isn't great at world building and she has also said that she didn't plan the crossover until she was writing hosab. That means any connection we see between hofas and, for instance, acomaf, is a result of her going backwards to see what she can use. Not the other way around. She "planned" in the sense that she wrote really vague stuff in the first place so that she could use it how she wanted to later on. That has become really apparent to me with the crossover.

Like... for example, Mor's power is "truth". Vague as fuck, right? I would bet good money (again haha like I'm rich) that sjm didn't even know what that meant in acomaf other than "I need a reason for the mortal queens to trust Mor". And then she'll figure out the mechanics and technicalities later and the fandom will call her brilliant for it. *facepalm*

I don't see e*riel being easy at all. But that's all I will say about that hehe.

Gwyn's story aligns perfectly with what sjm has already been doing in acotar, with Rhys and Lucien, and to an extent Nesta. I don't have any concerns there because I think her strength is in her characterization. (CC is just... another beast.) There was an interview she did a while back where she talked about the movie Promising Young Woman and it really emphasized to me that sjm's particular brand of feminism revolves around gender and sex. This isn't a critique, just a statement of what I've observed. My point is that she is very aware of rape culture and has strong feelings about it and gives characters the space to heal on page, and so that's not really a concern of mine, especially in acotar.

To your final point, I got SO frustrated the other day in the group chat, @sabrinasam said it was the most frustrated she's ever seen me haha. I'm so tired of sjm and the publisher being coy about this!!!! But mostly, I am so, so sick of people in this fandom treating each other like shit just because they don't agree on ships. Like it's one thing to have notps and brotps and to be annoyed by or even hate certain characters. It's a completely different thing when people feel totally comfortable going out in public and treating other actual, real, human people like absolute garbage because of those feelings.

Azriel is never gonna lick your fucking home entertainment center!!! Get the fuck over it!!!!!!!!!

I don't think that sjm is at fault for this because I think that people are responsible for their own actions. I also fully believe that the people taking screenshots and mocking them publicly (of people who probably have them blocked anyway, fucking stalkers) or just outright attacking people on different platforms would be doing that exact same thing whether it was about sjm or not. Like you could just stick them in another fandom, and these people would act the same deplorable way.

Anyway. I'm fucking tired. I'm still excited for acotar5 and will continue that series and when I was doing a lil voice chat with my friends for hours last weekend it revived my enjoyment of acotar and ToG. The fandom just makes it a lot of work, trying to have fun.

[boylikeanangel]

sort of copy and pasted from the tags on my last post but I cannot articulate just how much I love that bit rhys and samba did to open the standup the other night??? it's so cool how rhys is aware that most of his fans right now have come from seeing him in ofmd and not only does he appreciate the newfound popularity but he's going out of his way to 1) use his preexisting fame to help other people in the show (samba) give their own comedy careers a boost and 2) do fun stuff like that bit that caters specifically to the fans that came from the show. idk it really speaks volumes about him as a person I think that hes so enthusiastic and respectful about how most of the people going to these standups like him for one specific thing and he's just having fun making us all go a bit crazy by doing a stede voice or whatever. like at this point this tour is literally just for his ofmd fans and not only does he know that he's having a great time getting all its worth out of that. not to be parasocial or anything but seeing that kind of genuine appreciation and respect for fans in such a specific way is kind of really rare these days, it means the world to me how rhys not only sees us but responds with the exact same level of love for the show and his character??? idk i'm rambling now but it just makes me really really happy :') and samba calling him captain and stuff is sooooooo....like god this show is just as precious to them as it is to us they feel exactly what we feel and love working together like genuinely they are besties ,, the love poured into ofmd and the constant reinforcement of just how much everyone who was involved enjoyed being a part of it and wants to keep that energy going even offscreen never fails to get me emotional UGH I cannot wait to see them onscreen together again <3 this show has created something so special i'm not kidding i've never seen a community surrounding a show quite like this one before